Not So Golden
by 2AMhypoxic
Summary: 16 year old Harry is sent to live with Snape for an attitude adjustment after running away from the Dursleys one too many times to party and sleep around. Little does Snape know what Harry is really trying to run from, or what really happened at that club the other night. (Mentor Snape, warning for noncon, abuse, language, masochistic promiscuous Harry, slash, AU)
1. Chapter 1

The club music hardly trickled through the soundproof room, yet the bass still pulsed through the floor like a heartbeat, vibrating up through Harry's worn black converse.

The entryman squinted from Harry's ID back up to Harry's face doubtfully. "You're really 18? You look 14."

Harry smirked and rolled his eyes, swallowing his offense and trying to act gleeful. "That's what they all say! Looking young has its fun. I may be short, but I'm not short in partners, if you know what I mean." Harry winked. The man didn't look impressed at his pun. In fact, he didn't look impressed at all.

Harry itched to get past the entry door into the club and he was failing to brainstorm ways to convince the man of his false age. Harry had worked hard on that ID and dressing in a way that, he hoped, looked presentable. Black skinny jeans and a fishnet top under a leather jacket was suitable for a gay club, right?

The door to outside puzzed and opened. A man walked in, bringing the smell of the warm London night air to the small stale room. "Hey, Jim! Busy tonight?" he greeted the doorman by name, pushing past Harry as if he wasn't even there. He slid over his membership card and cash across the counter. An obvious regular.

"Well, it is a Friday, don't know what I expected. But yeah, it's packed! I need my first drink within the hour."

Harry was about to interrupt the conversation and protest at this rude treatment when the man looked down at Harry as if he had just noticed him. "Hey there, haven't seen you before!" He practically beamed at Harry, and Harry felt his heart flutter. all forgiven. The man was probably in his fifties, but he had the most amazing blue eyes that Harry had ever seen.

"I-I'm new, actually," Harry faltered. He let his gaze drop, which was a mistake, because now he was staring at a large bulge hardly obscured in tight fitting leather pants. He could feel blood rushing to his face. How was he supposed to convince the doorman he was of age if he was acting like a blushing virgin?

"You must have just turned 18, huh? Don't worry, I'll show you around. It can be overwhelming at first, but this club is one of the best gay clubs in London. You just need to relax and let it take you in." The man laid a hand on his shoulder and guided him through the doors into the white light before he could even quite comprehend his luck at getting by the entryman.

Harry was so taken with the view that he momentarily forgot the man by his side or the hand on his shoulder. There was a dance floor lit up in rotating neon colors, pulsing to the beat of the music. There was a pole with a dancer on it on a stage, and people all around dancing to the music. There was no end to glitter and leather and latex and rainbows.

The man steered him away from the dance floor and over to a bar across the room. The music wasn't so loud and the lighting was slightly warmer. The man seated himself on one of the spinning stools and motioned for Harry to do the same,

He greeted the bartender by name and gave his order, then turned to Harry. "What would you like? This one's on me."

"Oh, uh," Harry stuttered, "I-I'll have what he's having." He didn't even hear what the man had ordered.

"Good choice," the man winked. "I'm Jack, by the way."

"I'm H-Carl." Geez, he almost forgot to say the name on his ID!

"Here you go, lads." The bartender slid their drinks over the counter. Harry took a sip. It was a bit strong, but good. He didn't have enough experience with alcohol to tell what was in it, but he recognized the coke.

"You really go for the young ones, don't you, Jack?"

Harry almost choked on his drink as his eyes shot up to the bartender. The man was resting his chin on his elbow across the counter, casting a charmed look in Jack's direction. His glittering black shirt was low cut. He had hair pulled back in a ponytail, and he was definitely wearing some sort of purple eyeshadow.

Harry had never seen a man dress like that, but decided right then and there that it was hot.

"Come on, don't tease me like that, you'll scare the poor kid! He just turned 18."

The bartender regarded Harry now. "Is that right? Well, the next one is free then. Courtesy of your birthday!"

Harry's eyes lit up. The night was turning out better than expected. He was even getting a birthday present, even if it was a fake birthday! He swallowed a rather large mouthful of his drink in anticipation of his next one.

Jack chuckled. "Easy there, Carl! Maybe before your next one you want to try out the dance floor? I always find dancing more fun after a drink anyway."

Harry nodded. "Yes, that would be fun. I haven't danced much and I don't know if I'm any good." He took another sip. He had a feeling that by the end of the drink he wouldn't care if he was good or not. He was already feeling a bit buzzed.

"It's okay to be shy. It's rather cute, actually. And anyway, I bet you could move seductively if you wanted to. If not, I can show you how."

Jack had a playful smile on his lips but his eyes were serious. Harry could feel his face heat up in a blush. He cocked a smile and tried to flirt over the rim of his cup, aware that he probably only succeeded in looking stupid. "Well, we'll see, won't we?" He was feeling the effect of alcohol already, and it was pretty glorious.

He quickly drained the last of his drink and stood up. He swayed a bit on his feet, but steadied himself right away.


	2. Chapter 2

warning: rape! underage

Harry figured he probably had some daddy issues or something if he found old men so hot. Or what were daddy issues called if you never had a dad? Anyway, he had known it for awhile now. Experimenting with boys his age was fun, but he wanted the approval of older men as well. Anyway, he was figuring that alcohol wasn't the only thing good aged if his libido was anything to go by. Old men were just so… alluring. And no adult figure in his life had ever given him as much attention as Jack.

Speaking of which, Jack danced fantastically. He probably went to those muggle gyms, because he had a hot bod. And when he was dancing, and in those tight leather pants, it was impossible to ignore. Harry was practically drooling.

A few men had tried to come up and dance next to Jack to steal him away, but Jack had pushed them away and returned to Harry, choosing to dance very close on the crowded dance floor so that everyone knew he was taken.

Harry was self conscious when he danced, but seeing Jack smile encouraging down at him and the alcohol in his veins was making him courageous. He knew he was too small and skinny for his age, but Jack must be into that if he was showing him so much interest, right? And anyway, he was definitely interested. Jack had a hand on Harry's lower back, and he was dancing up against Harry in a grinding motion, their bodies touching, and Harry couldn't have been more aroused. He only hoped the man would take him home that night for some hot sex soon because he could hardly contain his own arousal, and that was with four drinks in his system.

Rotating between the bar and the dance floor, Harry was on his fifth drink, and he was pretty smashed. Okay, so at this point he was really drunk. Jack had had a couple drinks himself, but it didn't seem to affect him at all.

Harry was openly flirting and his speech was slurring pretty bad. He was practically in Jack's lap at the bar, wiggling and grinning up at him like a child. Adults, at this point, usually pushed you away, or send you to your room, or at least would snap "shut up!" at you, but Jack didn't seem annoyed at all. And anyway, he was still hard, Harry none-too discreetly found out, if that was anything to judge annoyance by.

He practically asked Jack how big he was, or maybe he did, and Jack hushed him like a child, but smiled while he was doing it, so Harry knew he wasn't offended.

Jack ordered him a fifth drink with two shots, and the bartender shook his head sadly. "I remember at that age, I hardly knew my own limits as well. Anyway, the poor kid, are you going to take care of him tonight, help him get home? He'll need it, that's for sure. I can't just kick him out like this at the end of the night."

"Of course!" Jack placed his hands on either of Harry's hips, if only to hold him back and steady him since Harry was drunkenly grinding against him, thinking he was discreet but being none too obvious. "Once he finishes his drink I'll help him home."

"Ehhh, but I want to go home with you!" Harry wailed in an annoyingly childish voice, batting his eyelashes up at Jack.

"Hush," Jack shushed him again in front of the bartender, but his hand had squeezed his ass as he did so under the counter, and Harry let out a plaintive giggle. _He's so into me!_

Harry's memory was as slurred as his speech. He had been sitting inside at the bar a second ago finishing his last drink, and now he was outside, and Jack was guiding him down the sidewalk with a hand around his waist!

"Where you takin' me? I don't want to go home! I won't," he pouted.

"You're so loud and demanding," Jack laughed, casting a glance around to see if anyone was nearby. He had stopped on the sidewalk, and suddenly Harry found his back pressed up against the wall of the building they had been walking by, each of his wrists secured above his head with Jack's large hands.

"Wow," Harry gasped, his world spinning. He would definitely be on the sidewalk if Jack wasn't holding him up against the wall. As it was, he could hardly focus his eyes on Jack's face. "I'm so… I hope I won't be sick, I want to have sex. How are you not even as drunk as me? I just-"

Jack silenced him by crushing his lips into his. Harry squirmed underneath Jack, his eyes opening in shock and then closing in satisfaction as Jack's tongue parted Harry's lips and began exploring the inside of his mouth. Harry still wouldn't shut up, even with a tongue down his throat, but Jack hardly minded. Harry's vocal cords only massaged his tongue, and Jack just wished it was his cock stuffed down Harry's warm mouth.

Jack pulled away suddenly, leaving Harry's mouth feeling cold and empty. "More!" Harry pleaded. "Please, sir. I want-"

"Not in public," Jack smiled. "Sir? My, you are quite the child, aren't you? I don't know how you have passed the night as eighteen."

Harry gasped. "How did you know?"

"You told me. Three times now."

"I don't even remember!" Harry laughed, thinking that was the funniest thing. He had never been this drunk before.

His memory glitched again. He was in a bed, face-down on top of white flower-smelling sheets. How had he even gotten there? Jack must have helped him, _the romantic sap_. The hotel room was nice and the bed was huge, and Harry expressed his enthusiasm.

"I've never slept in a bed this big! It's like swimming."

Jack flipped Harry onto his back with ease. He reached on either side of Harry's pants and yanked them down in a single motion.

Harry gasped as the cold room air met his cock. "Does this mean you are into me?" he giggled wildly.

"You really don't shut up, do you?" Jack sounded a bit more annoyed this time, a bit like an authority figure. Like an adult.

Harry pouted and was going to protest at the tone of voice Jack had used when something cold touched between Harry's legs, and Harry gasped out, his eyes opening extra wide in shock. This man must be desperate for him!

"Just lube on my fingers to stretch you," Jack offered as an explanation.

Harry must have been making too much noise because Jack flipped him onto his stomach again. This time he held Harry's head down in the sheets, and Harry, for a few startling moments, couldn't breath at all.

"You have to keep your voice in more," Jack scolded him, entering another finger. He twisted it around a bit before allowing Harry's head up.

"I-wow, that kind of hurts." tears sprung to Harry's eyes. "Too full already, I think I will be sick, I'm sorry, sir, I-"

"Just shut up already."

Jack pushed Harry's face into the sheets again, and Harry couldn't breath. Jack wasn't acting very nice, and he wasn't being very gentle either. All night he had treated Harry kindly, but now he was acting very cold. Harry didn't mind stuff rough, but now he was starting to feel genuinely afraid of the older man. His limbs felt like heavy weights, and he couldn't lift himself up off the bed or struggle even if he wanted to. Did Jack even know that he could hardly breath this way? He tried to tell Jack, but his words sounded jumbled even to his own ears, and it was hard to concentrate enough to make sentences with the man's fingers _inside_ of him like that, moving around. The man was being so forceful, and it was really unromantic, if Harry was being honest.

What was happening again?

Oh right, he had wanted sex. With Jack. Too bad he was too drunk to stay awake for it.

Harry awoke in the morning to an empty bed and the bright light of the morning stinging his eyes. His head hurt like Voldemort was in there trying to get out, but that wasn't the only thing that hurt. It hurt everywhere. His body felt like it had been run over by a truck.

In shock, Harry pushed the white sheets to the side. His naked scrawny body was littered with blue finger-print marks and hickeys. _I look like a bad painting,_ Harry thought. _I look like trash._

Harry turned his head to the side and promptly vomited.

Jack stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. He had a towel tied around his waist and one in his hands that he was using to dry his hair. He had beads of water dripping down his chiseled abs, and Harry knew he would normally be into stuff like that if he didn't feel so sick and disgusted.

"Goodmorning," Jack said, looking at his phone. "It's nearly 10 o'clock and I need to leave. Get yourself dressed and out of bed." The man hadn't even looked in his direction once!

Harry's pants and boxers were on the floor in a heap. He obediently jumped off the bed, ignoring the splitting pain between his legs, and began trying to slip into his skinny jeans. His hands were shaking and his limbs felt weak as if he was still a little drunk. He would have wanted a shower, but Jack hadn't offered, and he was too scared to ask. The man was getting dressed and seemed very much like a disapproving authority figure. He almost seemed disgusted, in fact.

Harry's mind was scrambling back to the night before and desperately trying to figure out where things had gone wrong. Jack had been so kind and romantic, going so far as to buy him all those drinks and to a hotel to spend the night. Had Harry done something annoying during the night, said something stupid when he was too drunk to control himself? Maybe the sex was bad? Maybe the man didn't like his body? Why was there so many hickies then, like the man had really enjoyed himself? Harry wished he hadn't been so drunk. Maybe he could have participated in the sex then, maybe-

Harry vomited again, on the floor next to his shirt. His vision blurred dangerously, and Harry had to sit very still in order to not pass out.

"The house-keepers will take care of it, so gather your things and leave when you are ready."

Jack was already dressed and leaving him!

"W-wait!" Harry gasped out desperately.

Jack stiffened in the doorway, and turned. He had a frown on his face.

Harry forced what he hoped was a flirtatious smile on his lips, even though his mouth was filled with the taste of vomit. He felt desperate, like a kid lost in a grocery store, and he wasn't sure why. "D-do I get your number at least? Just in case, you know, if you want to again..." Harry wasn't sure he wanted sex again, but he couldn't just leave things this way!

Jack smiled. It was the same dashing smile he had used all the night before, but this morning it looked fake and forced, more like a grimace.

Harry thought he would say something, but Jack shut the door without saying anything.

Harry picked himself up off the floor, a sense of isolation and alarm flooding him. He wanted to cry, but his tears felt stuck in his throat. He felt like an abandoned kid or something, even if he was sixteen. He tried to tell himself that he was lucky that Jack had even been into him at all, but Jack had seemed very disappointed this morning. Harry told himself he would have been able to perform so much better if he wasn't too drunk to perform at all, and that Jack should give himself another chance to prove himself. But Jack was gone, and Harry was alone, and he needed to leave the hotel before they charged him for another night.


	3. Chapter 3

Harry lay on park bench on his back, his arm flopped across his face as a shield against the sunlight. His headache was nearing Voldemort-scar-level intensity. He knew he probably deserved it from getting so shit-faced the night before, but he just wanted to lay down and wallow in self pity for an hour or two or three.

He should go back to the Dursleys'. He knew that the wards had gone off and people were probably hunting for him, but he couldn't bring himself to care. All he wanted to do was live a bit, have some fun like a normal kid. The Dursleys didn't care that he disappeared. They usually had him locked in his room when he wasn't locked out of the house anyway.

His escapades during the summer had included biweekly midnight trips to the park up the road to drink himself into oblivion. And, more fun, frequent vacationing to the abandoned shed behind the Miller's to bang the muggle kid Thomas from up the road. Harry's potions grade might be worsening, but at least his deep throating skills were improving.

His escape to London to go clubbing probably wasn't his brightest idea of the summer. His aching body was definitely regretting it. It wasn't like he was some pure virgin either. More and more he had been playing the role of reckless sex addict. But hell, his body _hurt_ this time, and his skin looked like it had danced on Vernon's belt buckle for crying out loud. Why did the night have to end up going so badly?

"Enjoying the day in the park, huh? Well, you look like you could use some company."

Harry squinted up. Some old guy in a suit was standing over him. Harry forced himself into a sitting position, groaning at his headache. "Um, yeah…" _I'm not in the mood to chat so get lost, old geezer._

"Want to spend some time with me this afternoon? I could use the companionship. How much for an hour?"

Was he….? Harry's jaw dropped open. The man wanted _to pay for him_? Suddenly it clicked. He was still wearing that fishnet top poorly obscured under a leather jacket. The man must think he was some sort of prostitute or something. Harry was caught so off guard that he didn't know what to say.

"This transaction will not be happening, I can assure you. Or should I call the police?"

A familiar voice spoke from directly over Harry's shoulder. Harry was so startled at the proximity that he fell forward, narrowly missing head-diving into the old man's arms.

Harry whirled around. Snape was standing there, behind the bench that Harry had been on, arms on hips and the fiercest scowl on his face. Where did he step out from? Surely he hadn't just magically appeared?

"Uh, um…" the strange old man mumbled something incoherent under his breath and quickly hurried away, leaving Harry alone with a very angry Snape.

Harry was tempted to run after the man and beg to go with him, even for free, but his feet seemed stuck to the ground. A sticking charm, or was this fear?

"At last I have found the Not-So-Golden-Boy," sneered Snape. He stepped over to Harry and laid a hand on his shoulder. Harry was being steered through the park and down a dark side street. He really wanted to try to make a break for it but Snape's hands was clenching his shoulder too tightly. His fingers dug into the space above Harry's collarbone like a leech. He was in so much trouble.

As if reading his thoughts, which Harry wouldn't put past the git to somehow be capable of, Snape hissed, "You are in so much trouble."

Snape stopped, and Harry lifted his head up to realize they were in some sort of dark alleyway with no one around. No escaping now.

Suddenly everything blurred, and the familiar feeling of apparition hit Harry. As soon as it begun it had stopped, and Harry knew he would be lying face-down on the ground if Snape's vice-like grip wasn't still latched onto his shoulder.

They were standing on a slab of stone in front of a door belonging to a place that looked like a haunted house from a horror book. The door magically began to open, creaking open with a sound like the voices of a thousand tortured souls.

"Say hello to your new dwelling place, Mr. Potter. This is Snape Manor."

Overcome with something akin to hysteria, Harry really did try to wrench himself out of Snape's grip. He knew it was illogical. It wasn't like he could just _run back to London_ when he had no idea where the hell he was, but his feet seemed to have different plans. He managed to turn around and lift up his foot to take a step when Snape shoved him _backwards and through the door_.

Harry lost his balance. He landed on his back, sliding a bit on the polished wooden floors. An outraged Snape stood over him. He tried to scramble to his feet but Snape was faster. He grabbed Harry by the shoulder and hoisted him to a standing position like a rag doll. Before he could resist, Snape was once again dragging him forward. They were going up a staircase. Then Snape opened a door and once again Harry was pushed forward.

Harry, luckily, was able to catch his balance this time.

He was standing in a bedroom with an antique looking huge four-corner canopy bed on the opposite wall. What got his attention right away wasn't the bed but what was on top of the bed. Was that _his trunk?_ And Hedwig? But how had it gotten here? And how did Snape have it? What in the world was happening?

Harry was shaking. "You can't keep me here!" Harry said, his voice coming out in a hysterical screech. "I-I need to go back to the Dursleys. They will be wondering where I am."

Snape held out a long piece of paper, looking bored. Harry took it in trembling hands, his eyes sinking to the bottom of the page. There, on a line, was Vernon's ugly signature.

"You've been signed away to me, Potter. I suggest you get used to the idea as quickly as possible."

"You mean you are kidnapping me?" Harry tried to look over the paper to see if it was legit, but he was shaking so bad somehow the words were jumbled together before his eyes.

"Call it what you like, though I will have you know that the Headmaster has put me up to it and your old guardians have consented. No one wants you, not even me, but alas one cannot always get what they want."

"This-this is forged!" Harry ripped the paper in half then began to crumble it in his fists. He was beginning to really panic now. He was lightheaded and swaying on his feet, and he felt like no matter how much he gasped the room was lacking in oxygen. He wouldn't put it past Snape to have poisoned the air or something.

"That was a copy. It was made for your benefit, with Professor Dumbledore's signature as well, though I see you have no need of it." sneered Snape, looking down at Harry with scorn.

"This is impossible! This can't be happening!"

"Reality is hard to handle at times. Running from it, I can assure you, only makes it worse. You are a prime example of this. If you hadn't ran away so much this summer, maybe this wouldn't be necessary. Too bad you cannot run away any longer, Potter."

Snape exited the room and shut the door behind him. Harry ran to the door and tried to open it, but it held fast.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry pounded on the door with his fists and screamed out all the insults and curse words he could think of. Harry felt claustrophobic, even in the large room, and it was making him panicky. It wasn't like he wasn't used to being locked up, it was just that he fucking hated it. How dare Snape do that to him? With his uncle it was normal enough, but he couldn't stand this treatment from Snape! Wasn't he supposed to be a good guy, trusted by Dumbledore? How dare he treat Harry like he was a prisoner?

After a few minutes of using up all the curse words and insults he could think of, he had to resort to more creative measures with his language. His voice felt like it might be going hoarse as well. He just wanted to get Snape angry enough to open up the door again. He didn't think what to do after that. It didn't matter. He just didn't want to be locked up.

He kicked the door with his foot, which was a huge mistake he realized as soon as he had done it. His cry this time was in pain instead of anger. That shit fucking hurt. He knew he probably broke a toe or two. He had enough experience with broken fingers and toes in his life to recognize the sensation.

Tears prickled at the back of his eyelids, but he blinked them back. He would _not_ give Snape the satisfaction of making him cry. Sliding to the ground at the base of the door, he rested his forehead on the hard wood paneling, utterly exhausted. The pain of his toes sapped his panic, and a familiar feeling of numbness settled over him like a cold blanket. He had been in this situation so many times since he was a child, locked away. He never did scream when the Dursleys did it, learning early on that the outcome would only result in being locked back up, this time longer, and this time with injuries to boot.

It suddenly occurred to him that Snape had probably put a silencing charm on his room. There was no way the git would just sit back and hear all those insults and not take the chance to wreak punishments down on him for it.

Maybe the pain put some sense back into him by making him realize how fruitless it was to scream at a door. M _aybe you deserved that pain_. He pushed that intrusive thought away by thinking of Snape's ugly face, and how much he wanted to strangle him. It took away some of the sense of numbness and made him feel angry again.

Gnashing his teeth together in anger, he picked himself up off the ground and looked around. The room was devoid of decorations of any sort. Other than the bed there was only a dresser and a large stone fireplace. The fireplace was not lit, of course. If it had been, Harry would have lit the bed on fire. That would have gotten Snape's attention. If it didn't, Harry would burn to death, probably. Which would be somewhat satisfactory as long as Snape got in trouble for it with Dumbledore.

There was also a door on the opposite wall. It was cracked open. Harry limped over to it and peered inside.

The bathroom that lay within was huge, with a tub as big as a bed. Seeing it made Harry realize how dirty he felt. He was pleased when, upon turning on the shower, hot water emerged. And there were towels that smelled good too, the expensive soft kind that Petunia had never let him use _. Because you're a dirty fucking freak_. Because rags were reserved for him.

He stripped out of his dirty clothes and stepped into the hot water. It felt really good. There was even a bar of soap, which Harry began to liberally apply to his body. Nothing so far seemed cursed.

That guy, Jack, he really went all out, Harry decided. There was a ton of hickeys and finger marks scattered all over his skin. The worst was two very painful bite marks on his inner thigh that were a bit red and swollen, but not oozing or anything like that. Still, they fucking hurt, and they looked like he got attacked by a wild animal that hadn't eaten in a considerable amount of time. Who the fuck even leaves marks like that anyway? So much for being a romantic _gentleman_. Jack was a freak! He was glad the man hadn't given him his number. Harry would have never contacted him again, even if he begged it of him and invited him out on dates and such!

He imaged that, for a while. Jack, begging Harry to go out with him on dates. Jack, apologizing profusely for the bad sex and saying that he would make it up to him in any way he could. Harry would demand a ton of things, like free pizza and beer and maybe even an expensive pair of headphones like the kind Dudley has. And even after all that, Harry would just refuse to ever contact him again. He'd leave him in the dirt, begging.

Harry scrubbed angrily at himself, as if he could make the marks disappear with sheer force and willpower. He let his imagination take him away, not realizing all the time that passed or that the bar of soap that he was scrubbing with was getting smaller and smaller.

There was a knocking on the door, jerking Harry from his daydreams. Startled, he jumped out of the shower and grabbed a towel. It wasn't like Snape would be mad at him for showering, would he? "Wh-what is it?" he asked, trying to sound fierce but only sounding alarmed.

The voice that greeted him through the door was squeaky and high pitched. "Master Snape would demand Harry Potter's presence at the dinner table in fifteen minutes, and Essie is to help escort you as soon as you are finished."

Harry cracked the door enough so that he could look down and see the small elf. He wanted to say, "You tell Snape that there is no way I am going," or something like that, but he wasn't sure what the house elf would do to herself if he declined. Also, this meant that he could leave his room. And aside from all that, he hadn't eaten all day and was really hungry. So he smiled down at her and said, "let me just get changed," and she disappeared with a crack and a look of happiness on her face.

Harry threw on some clothes from his trunk. He wasn't surprised to see that his wand and his invisibility cloak were both gone. It didn't make him any less angry through.

He followed Essie down the staircase and a hallway. Everything in Snape's manor looked very old and victorian, with dark mahogany wood and red carpeting. Harry decided right away that it was creepy and that he did not like it at all.

Harry had had a million things that he wanted to shout and demand and scream at Snape, but as soon as he saw him sitting at the table all the anger fled him, leaving him with anxiety and a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

"I see that you are limping, Potter," Snape sneered at him as he sat down.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and looked down hungrily at a large plate filled with turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy before him. He hadn't had such a good meal since leaving Hogwarts!

Snape, sighing, flicked his wand at Harry's foot. His toes lit up with a yellow glow before a slip of paper appeared in midair in front of Snape's face. Snape snatched the paper with nimble fingers, glared at the words on it as if they personally offended him, and then slammed the paper down on the table with a bang.

"And how, pray tell, did you manage to break three of your toes between now and when I last saw you three hours ago?"

Harry looked startled? "Three toes?" _I thought it was only two_. "Did you, um, did you hear me?"

"Hear your tantrum, you mean? No, I was in the dungeons, though Essie made me aware that you had quite the party going up there."

"Oh." Harry would have said more, but he wasn't angry so much as hungry. "Do I still, can I, you know, do I get dinner?"

"I called you down for dinner, didn't I?" Snape growled.

Harry fell silent as they both began to eat. No words were spoken between either of them until after dinner. Then Snape slid a small jar across the table. The jar was hardly bigger than a coin. "This is for your bruising," Snape offered as an explanation.

"Bruising?" Harry choked on the word. Did Snape somehow know about Jack? But how-?

"For where I grabbed your shoulder. I know it must have left a mark. And also for your toes, to ease the swelling."

"Oh." Harry hadn't even noticed any bruises on his shoulder. He was too busy noticing them elsewhere.

"Literate as always. Were you not so angry before, shouting many things? How then are you so silent now? Do you not have questions?"

Harry swallowed and looked up. Would Snape actually answer questions if he asked any? "Is it true that, you know, no one wanted me? Even, even- you know, Lupin, or Mrs. Weasley?" He asked hesitantly, worried for the answer.

"Well, Potter," oh how he had not missed the way Snape spat his last name like an insult, "if you had taken the time to read that parchment I gave you instead of ripping it and crumbling it in rage, you would have noticed that I am the guardian immediately placed over your care ' _until such a time as a more suitable guardian is needed for welfare_.' This means, that if you had not been so out of control, maybe professor Dumbledore would not have sought to remove you from your family's house. As is, I am the only one he trusts to effectively discipline you and to see that you abandon all foolishness such as has been increasing in the past few years and resulted in your summerly escapades. After that, you may return to being the Dursley's beloved brat."

Harry's mind tripped over the words, but caught on one in particular. "Discipline?"

"Yes, Potter. That is something I do not expect your spoiled self to know anything about, though I can assure you that you will soon know _exactly_ what that word means."

Harry swallowed and clenched his hands in his lap over the jar of healing salve. He didn't dare ask anymore questions in that area. Indeed, his mind was rather hung up on that, and he didn't know what else to ask, accept, "May I please go back to my room? Sir." He wanted to apply that salve.

"So eager to leave, when you were just so eager to escape? You may, though if you do you will not be allowed out until breakfast tomorrow morning."

Harry nodded and exited as quickly as he could.

 **In the bathroom he rubbed the balm onto the two bite marks on his inner thigh, satisfied to see them disappear almost immediately after a few coatings of it.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Did you not listen to my instructions on how to apply the balm?" Snape was furious the next morning at breakfast when Harry walked into the room… limping.

"It didn't work," Harry lied as he seated himself at the table. He almost felt guilty for the lie since Snape had been unexpectedly kind in giving him the balm to begin with, but his guilt vanished at the sound of Snape's annoying voice. Why must the man be constantly angry and accusing all the time?

"First rule of you abiding here: Do. Not. Lie. To. Me, _Potter_."

Well, _Snape,_ your balm didn't work. And anyway, I know you don't care one way or another if I'm hurt, so you can stop pretending to care now. Don't worry, I won't tell Dumbledore."

"That is professor to you, you insufferable brat."

"Well then, you can start by calling me by my name, _Snape_. Why should I respect you if you don't respect me, or be honest with you if you never tell me anything that I want to know? Let's face it: you hate me and I hate you, so if its honesty you want, stop giving me balms and-and- _stuff_ as if you actually care! I don't need your charity, you greasy dungeon bat!"

Snape stood up abruptly, fury darkening his face. He rounded the table in two steps. Harry cowered down in his chair, bracing himself for a slap across the face. Instead Snape grabbed Harry by the forearm, yanking him out of his chair. "Let go of me you bastard!" Harry yelled as Snape began dragging him out of the room. His heart was beating frantically out of control and his breathing was coming in short gasps but if anything his panic was only making him more reckless. He knew he should stop talking but for some reason his tongue seemed to be out of his control, spouting insults and curses as easy as breathing. He hadn't seen Snape so angry in a long time, and he figured he might as well say as much as he could if he was already going to pay for it. If the cake was baked, he might as well ice it, right? Or something like that…

Snape dragged him down a hall and into a small room that he threw Harry into. Harry stumbled forward, gasping in pain as he placed too much weight on his broken toes. He whirled around in time to see the door shut with a locking charm. Shit. A sudden feeling of claustrophobia overwhelmed him. His eyes darted around the room for a means of escape as Snape drew closer. There wasn't much in the room, just a desk, a few chairs, and a couch. Snape grabbed him again and began dragging him across the floor by his now-bruised arm. He stood him up against the wall in the corner of the room. "Don't move," he hissed in Harry's ear.

Harry stood against the wall, flushed in embarrassment at the childish punishment but too terrified to disobey. He stood very still, skin prickling in anticipation. He heard Snape rustling around the room and he expected any moment for the man to turn on him with a cane or some other beating instrument when he least expected it. He wondered if he could make it go by faster if he cried out, or if he should try to keep his dignity as long as possible? He figured Snape would enjoy seeing him blubber, but he didn't think Snape was the merciful kind that would take pity on him and go short on the beating if he cried.

It wasn't until he heard a chair scrape across the floor and the rustling stop a few minutes later that Harry's panicked breathing finally slowed a bit. He didn't dare turn around and look, but he heard the rustling of paper every few seconds and figured the man was grading papers. Maybe he'd get beaten after this little waiting game. He knew the man was furious with him and he was surprised at the self control that Snape was showing in not taking out some of his anger immediately. The self control scared Harry a bit. Punishments that were methodically dished out were more terrifying than those that were emotionally-driven, weren't they?

Harry's stomach flip-flopped at the thought and he had to steady himself on his good foot from a woozy head-rush. He wondered when Snape would turn on him. He didn't like having to wait.

There was only so long Harry could remain tense, and eventually some of the stress left his muscles. He couldn't wait until the end of the day when he could go back to his room and collapse into his bed. He decided to not fight the punishment Snape had in store for him but to take the beating gracefully. He wanted it over as soon as possible. He hated waiting. It was worse since his back was turned and he was forced to stand on tired legs. He hated not being able to face his fears.

He was suddenly hit with a memory of when he was only seven years old. It was Christmas morning, and Harry had burned breakfast. As punishment he was made to stand in a corner and stare at the wall while the rest of the family opened presents. Harry never got presents, so Christmas morning wasn't that exciting anyways, yet he was surprised at how terrible it was to not be able to even watch. He could hear them laughing, the ripping of wrapping paper, and Dudley's exclamations at the gifts that he had received. He was left staring at a blank wall with them ignoring his very existence while he was in the very room.

At the time Harry had begun to sniff silently to himself, which eventually escalated into quiet sobbing. This made Mr Dursley notice him, and he stormed over to the corner where he began raining down blows on Harry. "Self pity is disgusting for a freak like you!" he stormed. "You think you have it bad? We took you in out of the goodness of our hearts and gave you a place to say, and you are crying because you are in a corner? The shame!"

A tickling sensation on his cheek pulled him from the memory, and Harry was shocked to feel something drip from his eye. Fuck it, he was actually crying at the stupid memory and his own feeling of self pity because of it. He was so stupid, crying for no reason and feeling sorry for himself. His breathing hitched with emotion. He went rigid, fearful that Snape had heard him and would turn on him for it like Vernon. Luckily no footsteps approached, and Harry tried very hard to hold back the tears. He wanted to dash the tears away but he let them dry on his cheeks instead. Snape had said not to move and he didn't know how literally the man had meant it, but he didn't want to find out.

The chair behind him scraped lightly and Snape cleared his throat, causing Harry to jump. "Come have a seat, Potter."

Harry turned from the corner and obediently limped over to the couch where he sat across from Snape. He didn't look at the man, just down at his feet. He knew there was probably a tear trail or two down his cheek and he avoided eye contact in case his eyes were also red. His heart was beating kind of hard. He wanted to get his punishment over with as soon as possible.

Snape stood up, and his chair scraped angrily across the floor as he did so, making Harry cringe and sink down a bit, trying to make himself as small as possible. Snape walked around the desk and stood directly over Harry, his presence making Harry feel inadequate and small.

"Why are you crying?" asked Snape. "Do your toes hurt that much?"

Shit. Snape noticed. Of course he noticed. Harry knew he would. He was just embarrassed that Snape had chosen to comment on it. "I just felt sorry for myself." His head snapped up. Oh shit, did those words really just come out of his mouth? Maybe he subconsciously had a death wish or something.

He wasn't expecting Snape's calm exterior. "Do you feel as if your time-out was too harsh of a punishment after your idiotic tantrum and your rudeness? Is that why you feel sorry for yourself?"

Harry snorted. As if. "No, sir, it's just that no one understands me, but everyone wants to control me." He slapped a hand over his mouth, his face heating up. He braced himself for impending judgment as Snape's face darkened. He really needed to learn to school his mouth if he wanted to stay alive, especially if he was living with the greasy git. He never made trouble at the Dursleys or spoke out of turn, so why was it so hard to control himself around Snape?

Snape grunted and knelt down. Harry was startled to see the man on his level.

Snape pulled the sock off of Harry's injured foot.

"Wh-what are you doing?" Harry squeaked, startled. He tried to pull his foot back, but Snape grabbed his ankle in an iron grip.

"Don't move, you fool. Since it is obvious that you cannot take care of yourself in even the most minuscule of ways it is now up to me to do everything, it seems. Tell me, Potter, do you enjoy pain?"

"I-I mean, I'm a bit of a masochist, you know, so yeah, I like it in some circumstances, like as play before sex and stuff. Not in punishments, really, I don't like to get beaten. I don't like that as all. And I don't like breaking toes. That kind of pain really bloody sucks."

Snape's grip tightened drastically around Harry's ankle, eliciting a gasp from the boy. "That was not what I meant, Potter, so please shut up. I do not require this kind of knowledge from you."

Harry colored several shades. "Well you asked!

Snape pulled out the familiar jar of balm and began liberally applying it to Harry's toes. The balm was a bit chilly, but as soon as it was applied some of the pain vanished and Harry's taunt muscles relaxed into Snape's hand.

"Wow!" Harry gasped, thrilled that the pain was gone.

"Indeed," Snape agreed, applying another coating of the balm.

Gratefulness filled Harry. Snape was acting awful damn nice for being such a greasy git.

Snape turned the extra chair into a small table, and summoned breakfast onto it. "Since neither of us ate, we will do so now," he announced. "Another rule for you to remember and heed to: no missing meals. Or _else there will be consequences_. After breakfast you may start writing lines for your miserable behavior thus far today."

Harry gaped up at Snape in astonishment. That was the only punishment he was getting? And he still got to eat? He couldn't believe his luck. So far this was so much better than the Dursleys. He knew he'd probably screw things up quickly and sap out all of whatever decency Snape was showing, but Harry couldn't be bothered to care too much at the moment.

"Are you trying to suck nutrients out of the air, Potter? Do stop staring with your mouth open and put some food in it, _please_."

Harry turned to the small table filled with waffles, cream, and fresh fruit, and began serving himself a heaping portion.


	6. Chapter 6

It had been two days since Harry's arrival, and he was eating a quiet lunch with Snape when the man announced, "Draco will be visiting this afternoon. He will be here shortly, I suspect."

Harry inhaled in shock and immediately began to choke on the sandwich he had been eating. He sat on the edge of his chair, pounding his chest and coughing. A few very long seconds passed before Snape had pity on him and vanished the food lodged in his throat with a tilt of his wand.

"MALFOY? You've got to be kidding me!" Harry exploded as soon as he could breath.

"Do you think it is in my character to do such a thing?" Snape scoffed.  
"But he'll kill me! You stole my wand. How am I going to defend myself?"

"You will not need to defend yourself, because Draco will do _no such thing_."

"Well, did you tell him that? And why does that sound more like a warning than a statement?"

Snape sipped his tea nonchalantly. "Draco, unlike a certain _someone_ , respects me. I have already told him that you are here and that he is to behave himself around you. That means murder is off the table for this afternoon."

Harry clenched his fists together, cursing under his breath. "What do you do, sit around and drink tea together? I bet he's only visiting you so he can pick on me. He heard I'm here and he's coming to see for himself so he can destroy me."

"Indeed, tea will be held at three o'clock in the library. He often comes to drink tea and chat with me, or to spend an afternoon in the library to study while I brew my potions elsewhere. Does it surprise you that I am on such good terms with someone?"

It shouldn't surprise him, Harry realized. It was just that hearing Snape call Draco by his given name in private made Harry's gut twist. After all, Snape was Harry's guardian, and what did Harry get called? Potter, spawn of your father, insolent brat, spoiled boy, blablabla, etc.

 _It's not like I'm jealous,_ Harry told himself. Why would it bother him if the two people who infuriated him most were on first-name bases? It didn't! Not at all!

At that instant the stone fireplace across the room flared green, and a certain Draco Malfoy stepped out and into the room, a bemused smile on his face as he glanced around.

"Hello, Severus! Ah, and Potter! How good to see you again."

Harry knew he had some kind of allergic reaction to Malfoy because as soon as he saw that infuriating face he wanted to sprint across the room and lant a fist right between his eyes as greeting. It was like a compulsion, really. He could hardly help himself. He had to hold onto the chair that he sat on to keep from springing up and doing it.

"Greetings, Draco," Snape sipped his drink. "Today I will be catching up on some brewing. Tea will be at three in the library, which I expect you both to attend. But before I depart, would you do me the favor of assuring Potter that you wish him no ill will and will not cause him any bodily harm? He seems to not believe in your virtue."

Harry glared at Snape, who was pointedly not looking at him.

Draco's face took on a look of shock. "Potter, come now! Why would you be afraid of me?"

"I'm not afraid!" Harry yelled, sounding… well, sounding afraid. "I just don't trust you!"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Do you trust me enough to believe that I will throttle you both if you misbehave?"

Draco made a very exaggerated solute. "Don't worry, Severus, I will make sure Potter behaves!"

Harry's mouth fell open. "Are you hearing this?" he gasped at Snape, pointing at Draco with a finger shaking in rage. "You can't leave me alone with him!" _Or so help me I will not be able to contain my urge to choke him out or punch that smile off his face._

Snape fixed his eyes on both of them, glaring daggers into their soul. Harry shrank back from the glare, feeling guilty as if he had done something wrong, even though he hadn't. Not yet, anyway. Draco just smiled. His smile lit up his whole face, going from ear to ear, splitting his face in half. He looking like a deranged angel that had fallen into a tub of psychedelics. It made Harry feel nauseous. Snape couldn't be buying this act, surely. The man was smarter than that. Harry was going to puke if he had to look at Draco's smiling face for one second longer. Surely Snape wouldn't believe in the virtue of a Malfoy. Surely-

"I will leave you two to entertain yourself. Do not destroy any of my belongings or each other or there _will be consequences worse than anything you have yet experienced or can possibly imagine."_

Snape left with a flurry of black robes, the door closing behind him with a sound of finality.

Draco fixed his eyes on Harry, who sat glued to his chair in a state of denial and shock. Harry felt very naked and vulnerable with no wand and with no Snape to protect him. Draco's smile slowly vanished as he looked down at Harry. His chin tilted up, his eyes growing gradually more cold. _Dear God help me he is transforming into his true self if only Snape could see this if only-_

Draco advanced towards Harry in three decisive steps, swooped down, and _planted a kiss on Harry's lips_.

Harry was frozen. Draco's warm lips crushed softly into his own, and just as Draco began to push his tongue in Harry pushed him back. Harry shoved Draco so hard that Harry's chair tipped over backwards. He rolled onto his hand and knees on the floor, coughing and spitting and wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeve. "What the _fuck_ , Malfoy," he spat. "How could you-pppffttp-be so _disgusting_? Ugh-" he wiped desperately. "Please, I don't have my wand, set a cleaning smell on my mouth, _please, help, there is Malfoy saliva on my lips."_ He clutched at Draco's pant leg.

Draco rolled his eyes. "No need to be so dramatic, Potter. Please do detach yourself from my leg."

"Yeah but a _kiss_? What the fuck? How could you?" He gagged.

Draco shrugged. "Your fearful face turned me on."

"That's not an excuse!" Harry stormed.

"Oh come now, I'm just picking up from where we left off! You know, after the quidditch game? Behind the bleachers? You do remember, don't you? Or do I need to remind your body permanently this time?"

"No need," Harry quickly assured, pushing Malfoy back and standing up. He brushed himself off, suddenly composed. "Didn't I tell you that that was a one time gig, and to never bring it up again? It's in our past. So forget it."

Draco's face fell in disappointment. He looked like a child that had just had all his hopes and dreams crushed. It could almost be considered cute, Harry supposed, if it wasn't Draco.

"But..I haven't seen you all summer! And now we get some alone time. I mean, come on, aren't you horny? When was the last time you had sex?"

"Two days ago."

"Exactly! For you, that's like two years, isn't it? You must be sooo blue-balled."

"My balls are fine."

"Are you sure?" Draco stepped closer. Harry stepped back. His back met the wall. Draco's blue beseeching eyes met him. No escape. "You aren't turned on at all right now?"

"Maybe a little…" Harry allowed.

Draco began to smile again. He really did look like a little kid. "Perfect! Then show me the way to your room!"

Harry told himself he was going to regret this, just like he regretted the last sexual encounter with Malfoy. He took the steps two at a time anyway.


	7. Chapter 7

Flashback/

During the Spring the Gryffindors and the Slytherin quidditch teams had had a practice match against each other before the end of the semester. The heads of the two houses were not informed of this practice match. What could go wrong, right?

Harry and Draco had made a secret pact together before the practice. It went like this: the loser has to suck the winner's cock.

According to the Gryffindors, the match got out of hand when the Slytherins started to lose and decided to turn forceful and use unfair physical means to try to win. Katie Bell had nearly knocked Alicia Spinnet off her broom. Purposefully. The fight that broke out after would have been monumental if someone watching the match hadn't alerted Snape and McGonagall of what was happening. As it was, the game was cut short before a winner could be officially decided. Both sides claimed that they had won anyway. Detentions were had all around.

Harry and Draco had met behind the bleachers after curfew that night as had been previously agreed.

A muggle scuffle broke out between them after both insisted that their team had won. The result of this ended up with Draco on top of Harry, according to Harry, by _pure chance_. After all, Draco was a coward who hated to fight without backup. If Harry hadn't slipped on the grass Draco would have never had a chance to tackle him. Once Harry was down, it was difficult for the smaller boy to gain his footing again. He struggled under the larger boy, but Draco had him pinned.

"Get off!" Harry hissed under his breath, kicking his feet.

"Shut up!" Draco shot back, sitting on Harry's stomach with Harry's hands pinned and feeling like king of the mountain. "If you aren't quiet someone will hear you then we will both be in trouble." For good measure, he punched Harry in the stomach.

Harry gasped, but stopped struggling, much to Draco's shock. Draco punched him again, and Harry moaned this time.

"Jeez, you sound like you're getting off to this," Draco muttered.

"Am not!" insisted Harry.

Draco reached behind him to check. "You definitely are," he corrected.

Harry shrugged nonchalantly, or as much as he was able to pinned to the ground.

Draco grabbed Harry by the hair, lifted his head a few inches, and then slammed it into the ground.

Harry practically moaned, even as his eyes went glossy with tears because of the pain.

"Interesting!" Draco gasped. "I mean, I've heard the rumors of your sexual exploits, but I didn't realize you were such a pervert. You really like pain!"

"Don't get used to it," Harry snapped. "And anyway, don't pretend like you are not hard yourself."

Harry had a perfect view of Draco's crotch growing tight.

He had a point.

"Is it true that you had a threesome with a Ravenclaw girl and a Hufflepuff boy last year?"

"Mmmh, I won't deny that something of the sort may have happened," Harry couldn't hold back a smirk.

"How about," Draco suggested slowly, "even though the slytherins did win, we, you know, blow each other? You do me, then I'll do you. And no one finds out, because we keep this secret for life, on pain of death."

"Sounds alright," Harry agreed.

And that was how the two sworn enemies had a mutually pleasurable experience together, but remained enemies. With benefits.

Flashback end/

A lot had trespassed since them, but Draco was much more passionate, Harry was surprised to find. As soon as the door had shut Draco pinned Harry against the door and they started making out. Harry tried to get loose and pin Draco as they continued to kiss, fighting for dominance over the other's mouth. They struggled over to the bed. Draco grabbed the base of Harry's shirt and lifted it over his head, then pushed Harry back onto the mattress.

"Fucking hell, Potter, what the hell happened to your back?!"

Harry froze, his blood going cold. He had forgetting that he had no way of casting glamours at Snape's house, and that his back had nothing masking it, unlike at school. How could he forget? The Dursleys abuse was written across his back in gory depictions of the past.

He went to put his shirt back on, but Draco grabbed it and ripped it out of his hands, tossing it across the room. "I mean it, Potter, what happened? Who did that? Was it your family? It was your family, wasn't it?" He grabbed Harry's arm, his voice rising.

Harry wrenched himself free. "I don't have to tell you anything! It's none of your business!" he snapped.

"Does Dumbledore know? Of course he can't, he would never allow this! Why didn't you tell him?"

"Draco, seriously, can't you shut up? It doesn't matter, okay? I won't have this conversation with you. This is really unsexy. I've totally gone soft. Why'd you have to mention it at all?"

Draco stepped back, hands raised in defeat. "Alright, fine," he relented.

Harry had his arms crossed over his bare chest, and he was shaking. His ribs stuck out too far, and he wondered if Draco would go and mention how he was half-starved too. Or how he had so many hickies littered across his body. He felt unpleasantly exposed and ashamed.

"It's really okay," Draco repeated. "I won't tell anyone. But you should. My family treats me pretty bad, but nowhere near _that_ bad. Does Snape know? Wizards have effective ways to get rid of scars."

"Why would Snape care? He hates me! He's the last person I'd want to know about _that_."

"I mean, not gonna lie, he's a complete asshole to you, but he's not a psychopath. Even he'd do something about it. All the slytherins think you're spoiled, you know? No one would have ever guessed! And I know you wanna keep this hidden, but he's smart. He's gonna figure it out somehow if you're living with him. It's a miracle you've hidden it for this long."

"He won't!" Harry pushed past Draco and stormed across the room to grab his shirt off the ground. "You're a git, Malfoy, you know that? I was really into it for a minute. I'm probably impotent at this point, with all your talking. You ruin everything."

"Come on, don't put the shirt back on," Draco cooed. "You're really sexy, okay? Even with your scars. You have a really hot body." He walked over to Harry and sank to his knees before him. "Come on, please? I'll make you feel good, I promise."

Harry wanted to yell at him again, but was distracted when Draco began to unzip Harry's fly. It was really hard to stay angry while your cock was getting sucked.

"Good luck getting me hard again."

 **Draco looked up and smirked. "Watch me."**


	8. Chapter 8

His hands were strung up over his head. The rope dug into his wrists, chafing his skin. He had to stand on the tips of his toes to keep the rope from cutting off the circulation in his hands. "Last time I did this I had pink fuzzy handcuffs," he complained.

"I learned how to transfigure simple rope and a switch, but goddamn, Harry, I can't get all _technical_ with it." The switch Draco was holding slipped out and struck Harry across the back of his knees. Harry let out a moan and danced on his toes a bit, straining against his bonds.

Draco scoffed, his lips parting in delight. "The way your body responds to pain never scenes to amaze me. I mean, I knew you had a few screws loose, but I never knew you were this much of a pervert." Draco had a power-hungry glimmer in his eyes. It was almost frightening when Harry forced himself to remember that this kid was his rival and enemy. It was definitely hot.

"Speak for yourself," Harry spat. "You know you're getting off on this too."

The switch cut across the back of Harry's knees again. "Hey now, remember who is in the position of power here, okay?"

Harry bit back the scathing retort he wanted to make. How had he even gotten into this predicament? Draco had been giving him a very vanilla blowjob before he said he had wanted to try out some 'new' stuff, and then transfigured the rope.

The switch hissed through the air and bit into his backside. "I didn't get an answer!"

"Yes, okay!" Harry gasped.

"Yes, sir," corrected Draco, smiling creepily. He was obviously enjoying himself all too much.

"What? That's no fair! Like bloody hell I'll-aaaaahhh," Harry's protest was cut short when another swat permeated his backside. "Yes, sir," his voice faltered a bit.

Even though he was on his toes Draco was still much taller than him. Their difference in height was made more obvious because Draco was standing so fucking close to him, gazing with open curiosity into his face.

"Mmmm, your face is flushed. Interesting. Did you like that, calling me sir?"

Harry could feel the blood rush to his cheeks again, and a wide grin split Draco's face. "Your face isn't the only thing heated up, I think." Draco's eyes left his face to travel downwards. Harry didn't need to look down to know that his cock was throbbing. He could feel the pulsing in his groin.

Draco placed his hands on the wall on either side of Harry's head, and he slowly drew his knee up between Harry's legs. What room Harry had was compromised and he could feel his balls being gently crushed up against Draco's knees.

Harry had to bite into the side of his arm to keep back a moan, but Draco was having none of that. He weaved his fingers up through Harry's hair and made a slow fist, pulling Harry's chin forward.

"I put silencing charms up after locking the door, so no need to keep your voice in. If you do insist to continue on in silence I will have no choice but to really make you scream." Draco took a step back and tracing the base of Harry's cock with the switch. It took all of Harry's strength to hold back and not thrust at the twitch.

"Just, just touch it already!" Harry gasped. "Come on!"

Draco sighed. "You're so demanding, Potter. No manners at all, really. It's quite rude. Plus...I don't want you to cum yet. I'm having way too much fun, seeing you so desperate."

"You're a git, Malfoy. A real git." Harry pouted very childishly, and Draco laughed.

Having pity on him, Draco went down on his knees before the strung up Potter and took Harry's member in his mouth. Harry gasped at the warm sensation and then the suction of Draco's mouth. Harry wanted to grab Draco by the hair and thrust into his mouth more, but he couldn't move from where he was tied up. "Goddamn, Malfoy, I'm really desperate. Damn you."

Malfoy pulled back and looked up at Harry, a smile on his lips. A string of precum trailed from his lower lip to the tip of Harry's now cold cock. "I wanna see what it's like inside of you, Potter."

Harry nodded, suddenly overcome with lust towards the blond boy. He just looked so erotic kneeling there with his lips moist.

Draco lubed up a finger and slipped it in between Harry's legs. Harry gasped out at the warm sensation entering him. He couldn't hold back his moans anymore. Draco drew it out and then pushed it back in again with a second finger.

"Ah, so full," Harry groaned. It didn't hurt but it felt tight enough that it was borderline uncomfortable. Draco began to scissor his fingers, and pump them in and out, stretching him. He rubbed against Harry's prostate a few times and Harry gasped at the pleasureful sensation.

Harry's knees were going week and his hips began to shake. If he wasn't strung up he wouldn't be able to stand.

Draco must have noticed and had pity on his wrists because he vanished the bonds. He caught Harry before he fell to the ground, but before Harry could collect himself Draco had threw him face-down onto the bed.

Harry was going to protest being manhandled (out of principle, since he really did like it) but then Draco had began binding his wrists together behind his back.

"Again?" Harry growled.

"I like you tied up and helpless." Draco was panting and hard. _And he hasn't even touched himself yet either. All he's done is hit me and pleasure me._ "I think you're stretched enough. Do you feel okay?"

"Pfft, you ask like I'm made of glass. Just get inside me already," Harry growled.

Draco didn't need to be asked twice. He pushed Harry's head face-down into the covers. Then he grabbed Harry's hips and lifted his ass up. He pushed the head of his hard cock up against Harry's hole, and then entered with a single push.

Harry and Draco both gasped in unison at the sensation.

"God, you're so fucking tight, Harry. And warm."

Malfoy had used his first name. It made Harry feel even more hot inside.

Draco began thrusting then, and Harry couldn't hold back his moans at the sensation as the boy picked up speed. He was hitting Harry's prostate with each thrust, and the pleasure was so intense that Harry's eyes were filled with tears. Draco pulled out all the way, and then pushed in, forcefully thrusting his full length deep inside Harry.

"Ah, Draco," Harry cried. He would have been completely collapsed if Draco wasn't holding his ass up with a firm grip on either hip. "So intense. I want my hands!"-gasp- "Please, Malfoy, I need to touch my cock!" he was so hard and dripping precum everywhere, but with his hands secured behind his back he couldn't do anything to relieve himself.

Draco reached around and began to stroke Harry as he pumped. The sensation was otherworldly.

"I'm gonna cum! Draco!"

"So cum then."

Stars danced in front of Harry's eyes, and he knew he was close to blacking out with the pleasure. "Aaaahhh," Harry tensed up suddenly, his ass clenching on Draco's cock and his whole body going rigid as he began to cum into Draco's hand.

Draco pumped twice more inside Harry's twitching insides before cumming himself.

He collapsed on top of Harry, who had fallen limply onto the mattress, exhausted. They both lay like that for a few minutes, bodies sweaty, catching their breathe.

Suddenly, Draco jumped up as if he had been shocked. "Potter, what time is it?"

"The hell you on about?" Harry grunted from his position face-down in the mattress.

"The time! What time is it? ShitshitshitSHIT…" he scrambled for his wand and found it on the ground. He did a fancy maneuver with it in the air, and large green letters lit up in from of his face. They read 3:15.

"Fucking hell, Potter, get up! We're late!" he vanished the bonds from the boy's wrists and then cast a cleaning spell.

"Eeehhhh?" Harry sat up groggily, watching the boy scramble around grabbing articles of clothes from various parts of the room. A shirt was chucked at him, and he caught it right before it landed in his face.

"Get up, Potter! Tea! We're 15 minutes late for tea, and Snape-"

Recollection hit Harry, and his face paled drastically as his mouth dropped open. "Oh shit."

There was a pounding on the door. Both boys froze in unison, and then began to scramble around in a panic.

"Shit! Fuck! My boxers? Where's my fucking boxers?!"

"There, under the bed, Potter!"

Harry yanked on his shirt.

"What is the meaning of this?" came Snape's voice through the door. He sounded absolutely furious. "Draco Malfoy, did you silence this room and lock the door?! Let me in at once or else-"

Draco was hopping on one foot as he yanked up his pants.

"I will count to three, and then I am opening this door no matter what. 1...2…"

Harry couldn't find his pants anywhere. He grabbed his boxers and began to put them on.

"3! Alohomora!"

The door burst open, revealing a very angry potions professor, black robes billowing about him in a cloud of rage.

Draco had on his jeans but no shirt. Yet he somehow had the presence of mind to sit himself on the edge of Harry's bed, one leg nonchalantly crossed over the other, for Snape's outburst. He had his most charming smile on too, _the fucking slytherin scum deceptive and smooth as fuck_. He looked completely relaxed, as if he had been perched on the bed having a nice chat. Only the gleam of sweat glistening on his bare torso and forehead gave away his recent activity.

"Ah, Severus! Is it tea time already? I am so sorry we-"

"OUT! Go home. NOW."

Snape's eyes swept across the room, taking in the ropes lying on the bed, and then drifting over to Harry. Harry had on his shirt (backwards and inside out) and boxers. He stood there frozen with his jeans clutched in his hand. His knees were weak and his hips were loose from the sex and maybe fear, and his whole body trembled. Snape knew exactly what had trespassed.

Draco slid of the bed and casually slipped towards the door, giving Snape a wide berth. He paused in the doorway, casting Harry an apologetic look from over Snape's shoulder. "Well, if I really must, I'd hate to abuse my stay. Potter, Severus, it's been swell, until next ti-"

Severus flicked the door shut with his wand, silencing Draco's departing words.

Silence permeated the room. Harry wanted to melt into the floorboards. He couldn't meet Snape's stormy eyes and so he hung his head. He wished he had even a small percentage of Draco's suave attitude. He felt inches tall as it was.

"This," Snape waved his hand in the air, "this is why you're here, Potter. Because you can't control yourself, because you can't control your _drive_. You realize that, don't you? Your arrogance is out of control, just like your father. You think you can do whatever you want and get away with anything. You think your actions don't have consequences. And indeed, thus far they have not. You have gotten away with far too much in your life and your recklessness has been rewarded. But unlike your father, you will not get away with this. I am the one in control here, not you. And I will not put up with your reckless egotism. Your behavior is nothing short of _freakish_."

Harry flinched at the word, a bad taste in his mouth at the memories that it brought to mind. He wanted to say something, try to offer up an excuse or maybe an apology, but there was muscles twitching in Snape's face that he had never seen before, and so he bit his tongue and stayed quite as Snape went on.

"Sirius is animalistic. But you, Potter? You should be fixed like a dog. You have absolutely no control, and you are _unsightly_. You should be ashamed of yourself." He looked Harry up and down with disgust in his gaze.

 _As if he can see through my clothes, as if he can see all my scars. As if he knows about Jack. As if he can tell just what a freak I am._ Harry was just thankful that his legs were the only things exposed. The only markings that could be seen were the recent switch marks from Draco that decorated his thighs.

Snape was going on. "You're like a bitch in heat, running rampant, trying to bed anything that moves. I never did have high expectations of you, Potter. Really, I thought there was nothing that you could do that would shock me. Yet you go ahead and somehow find a way to disappoint me again. Like a dog, I am starting to think you need a collar and chain. I ought to put you in chastity."

"Stop," Harry pleaded.

"Excuse me?" Snape looked shocked and personally offended.

"Just shut up!" Harry's voice was small, despite his words. Harry had his head bowed, his hair covering his eyes. His whole body trembled and he squeezed his jeans in a white-knuckled fist.

"I see my tongue-lashing has left you shaken," Snape observed. "Anyone else and I would know that my words had an effect. I know better when it comes to you. Anything I say will not permeate into that thick skull of yours. You need more concrete forms of discipline. A mere telling-off does nothing. You are much too conceited and stubborn."

He pointed his wand at Harry, and Harry flinched back, holding up his hands as if that would stop what was to come. Snape muttered something very quietly, swishing his wand back and forth.

Harry cringed and closed his eyes, expecting the worst. However, he felt nothing. Nothing changed. Did Snape do anything?

"What did you do?" Harry demanded.

"Well, _Potter,_ I dare say you will find out in due time. You will be confined to your room for the rest of the day. I will have the house elf bring you your dinner. You will stay in your room at all times accept meal times which you must show up to."

With that, Snape whirled around and left the room, the door clicking locked behind him.

Draco had enough self preservation to have flooed home. However, Snape found a quickly scrawled out note left on his desk, the cheeky brat.

.

 _Severus, please go easy on Potter. He's not who you think he is. Even I misunderstood him._


	9. Chapter 9

warning: This chapter contains corporal punishment and humiliation. Read at your own risk.

After Harry's sex escapade with Draco, Harry was banished to his room except for meals. It wasn't bad and Harry didn't complain. In a compliant manner, he read books and worked on his summer homework. Compared to his broom closet at the Dursleys this was bliss, after all. Even though Harry ate meals with Snape the man didn't say a word to him or even look in his direction. All things considered, he was thankful. Being ignored by the git was a gift.

There was, however, one thing wrong. Harry realized it the first afternoon Draco left. He was lying in his bed and thinking of the blond boy with his soft lips glistening after sucking Harry off. It had been really hot. Harry slipped his hand in his pants and began imagining the happenings of the day in more detail as he stroked himself.

Draco, hard and rubbing his cock against Harry's backside. Draco, face flushed and lustful with Harry underneath him. Draco, on his knees and looking up at Harry with his bright blue eyes. Draco…

Waves of pleasure ripped through Harry as he stroked himself. But that's where it ended. No matter how much Harry wanted to, his body would not cum. He could feel himself wanting to. He was hard and ready. But he couldn't.

It was Snape. He knew it. The man had put that spell on him, and now he couldn't satisfy himself in the most basic way.

What was Harry to do? He thought of going to see Snape and demanding he take the spell off. But he abolished the idea immediately. He didn't want to have a confrontation with Snape, especially about something of that nature. Surely the spell would wear off soon? Snape couldn't just leave it on forever. It wasn't healthy to go long without cumming, right? He would die or something. He was a young male with a strong drive and he couldn't remember a day that had gone by where he hadn't satisfied himself in that way.

It wasn't bad that day, but the next morning when Harry woke up he had a hard-on that he couldn't get rid of. Peeing felt like fire. The hard-on didn't go away for a few hours either, and he had to sit at breakfast across from the silent Snape with a tent in his pants. It was ridiculous.

Harry frequently tested to see if his ability to cum was back throughout that day and the next, just in case Snape had taken away the spell or it had timed out. No such luck. He would get to the edge of pleasure, but there would be no release. It was like having an itch that he couldn't scratch, magnified. There was no relief.

Needless to say, after the second day his cock was throbbing and his nether regions hurt and he was on the verge of tears. He decided to talk to Snape that night.

Harry didn't know how to bridge the topic. He felt awkward and ashamed, but he was desperate, so he pushed his feelings back and called the house elf to bring him to Snape.

Snape was in his office working on lesson planning. His office was the same small room that Harry had been punished in last time. It seemed just as claustrophobic now as it did then. The walls seemed to be closing down around him. He wanted to sprint for the door and make a break for it, but he was already there and Essie had gone and Snape was already looking at him with his cold eyes so he swallowed and tried to find his gryffindor courage.

"What are you doing here? Did I not tell you that you were to stay in your room except for meals?"

"I-I came to… to talk to you about… the spell." This was harder than Harry had imagined.

Snape's face was blank, like always. It seemed to be always blank or twisted in anger. Did Snape even have the ability to feel anything other than anger or nothing at all?

"What spell?" Snape asked.

Oh, so he wanted Harry to say it, maybe beg a bit. The bastard. "The one that, you know, keeps me from...from…" Harry's face reddened and he didn't finish his sentence.

Snape leaned forward. Ah. there was another look Snape was capable of: evil satisfaction. He had a shadow of a smile on his lips. Harry cursed him in his head.

"Yes?"

"Please, I just, can you take it off now? I'm really desperate."

"Punishments are not supposed to be pleasant."

Harry's face fell. Snape knew he shouldn't be enjoying this, but he would be lying if he said he didn't. Having Potter under his control in such a way? Having Potter beg him for something that only Snape could give him? Yes please. After all, the boy deserved it.

"Though I can offer you an option that may seem more lenient."

Harry looked up, hope in his eyes. The boy was so easy to read.

"You can stay under the chastity spell for another two week, or you can get it removed now. If you decide to get rid of it now I will punish you physically instead. But then it will be over."

Harry took a step back, and his face went pale.

 _Ah, so he will choose to remain chaste for two week,_ Severus thought. _Of course he would be too afraid of a physical punishment._

"O-okay," Harry squeaked.

Severus looked a bit shocked. "You want the spell to end that badly?"

Harry nodded, wringing his hands together and looking wretched. He was used to beatings. Beatings and being locked up was the norm for him back home. If anything was a surprise it was that he had almost made it an entire week with Snape before being punished in such a way.

"Very well." Snape stood up. Harry backed away reflexively. Snape crossed the room and sat down on the couch. He seemed completely relaxed, or as relaxed as Harry had ever seen the man. Maybe he was just in his element when it came to punishing Harry. Maybe he lived for these moments. "Come here, Potter."

Harry hesitated, dawdling by the door. It wasn't locked. Harry still had a chance to escape. But then what? Where could he go? He'd still be in chastity anyway. He didn't want to run. He had to face up to Snape.

Forcefully he dragged one foot in front of the other until he was a few arms lengths away from man. There he stopped. He was at a safe distance, where he could possibly flee if Snape jumped at him.

Snape regarded him with mild interest. "I thought Gryffindors were known for their bravery. Yet you looked like a kicked puppy cowering away from its master." He pointed at the ground directly in front of him. "Stand right here."

Harry took a hesitant few steps forward. As soon as he was within arm's distance Snape reached out and grabbed him by the arm, not unlike a snake striking at its play.

Harry yelped, startled. But Snape just dragged him forward a few feet until the boy was standing directly in front of him. "Here," Snape said.

He couldn't remember a time when the man was on a lower level than him. Snape was always towering over Harry, or across from him at mealtimes. Harry could not recollect a time when he had stood above Snape. It was awkward. In this particular situation it was kind of horrifying. Why was Snape sitting with Harry standing before him?

"Spread your legs shoulder length apart."

Harry slowly obeyed.

"Now put your hands on your head."

"Why?" Harry gasped, horrified at this point. His stomach was a mess of knots. "Why do you want me to do such a thing? Aren't you going to beat me?"

Harry tried to step back then, startled to find that his feet were stuck. What was the meaning of this? He would have fallen backwards onto his butt, but Snape grabbed him by the bicep while he regained his balance.

"Why am I stuck? What did you do to me? Snape, let me go!"

"Professor Snape," the man corrected. "Put your hands on your head. Now. Or do you want to be in chastity for an indefinite amount of time? Don't forget: you chose this."

Harry wasn't sure he wanted this anymore. He lifted his hands shakily and placed them on his head anyway. He was already trapped. The only thing he could do was get through this the best he could and try to appease Snape in any way possible. He tried to shift his hands only to realize that they were also glued to his head. Now he was without a way to shield himself as well.

"Good." Snape looked satisfied. The word was the closest thing to praise that Harry had ever heard from Snape. It settled in the pit of his stomach, a warm feeling in the midst of the nerves knotting his intestines together. And it felt good in Harry's terror-stricken mind. He guessed he must be attention-starved or something because he desired comfort in the midst of this crazy situation. Maybe he was just overly emotional from the fear, and now the possible-kindness made him want to weep. He looked down at Snape, a small part of him daring to hope that the consequences wouldn't be that bad, that maybe Snape would have mercy on him.

The wand in Snape's hand lengthened out until it was much longer. Harry recognized it for a cane. He felt sick.

"It seems that you quite enjoy pain, Potter. Your thighs looked like they thoroughly enjoyed Draco's strikes."

"I don't, not really. Not like this." Harry was shaking. "Please, sir, forgive me. I didn't know my actions would make you so angry. I didn't think!"

"You never do, Potter. This lesson may make you remember for next time." Snape picked up the cane and flicked it through the air to test it. It made a whistling sound. He looked satisfied.

It was different than Vernon. Vernon would get angry, and lash out in rage, not caring where he hit or how much damage he dealt. He would also tire faster. Snape was different, because Snape appeared perfectly calm, even if Harry knew better. Snape could wait, and dole out punishment in a systematic manner. Harry hoped he could get through it okay, but he was having his doubts. This seemed different than the typical belting that he was used to.

"Potter, I am going to strike you with this cane five times. Each strike you must count, or else I will repeat it. This is a punishment and it is not meant to be enjoyed. As such, I will be striking you here-" he brought the cane up and tapped it in between Harry's legs, on his already aching ball sack.

"No!" cried Harry, trying to struggle and pull away but absolutely stuck. "You can't do this to me! Please, sir! Please!"

Already Harry could feel tears prickling his eyes as his panic mounted. Vernon would have never done this. It wasn't that this punishment was as bad as Vernon's, just that Vernon didn't purposefully delight in humiliating Potter. He thought he was just getting a regular beating on his back or buttocks, not something like _this_.

Snape blinked at him. "If it makes you feel better, you can thank your father for the nature of this punishment. You fell in my pensive last year. I don't need to tell you how much your father delighted in hurting me or stripping me of all my dignity."  
"But sir, I'm not my father!" Harry felt like he was going to throw up.

"Indeed, you keep on insisting such, yet your character is just as despicable. Now Potter, don't forget to count."

The cane hissed up through the air and hit Harry between his forcefully spread legs.

"One!" Harry gasped out. For a few seconds the pain didn't even register, and then it was a debilitating burning, as if his nuts were on fire.

Snape didn't even swing hard at all. He looked quite bored, holding the rod loosely in his hand. He didn't have to strike hard for it to hurt. He brought the stick up again.

"Two!" Harry cried. He could hardly see through the pain. He couldn't feel anything but the burning.

"Good boy. That is two down," Snape said, and it was the first time Harry had ever been directly complimented by the man. It felt wrong, because he had called him _boy_ just like his uncle. Yet the words were almost kind. He began to cry.

Snape brought the stick up again.

"Three!" shouted Harry. And something was seriously wrong with his body, because he could feel himself getting hard. Really hard. _I'm broken,_ Harry thought. _I was always broken but now I'm just realizing how broken I really am. I'm a freak. I'm not supposed to like this but my body is responding like it does anyway._ He didn't want to get hard, not from this, not in front of Snape. He told himself it was just because he hadn't been able to cum in the last few days, but he wasn't so sure anymore. "Stop!" Harry pleaded. "Please, Severus, stop this!" His face was growing hot and he was blushing.

The cane shot up again. The pain blinded Harry, and for a minute he couldn't scream, couldn't speak, couldn't breath. He began to fall forward towards Snape, but Snape grabbed his shoulder and held him up.

"One more," Snape said, and his voice was strangely gentle. "If you count that out. Otherwise its two more. Do you want an extra?"

"F-four!" Harry managed in a sob. God, he was so hard, and he was panting like he had run a marathon. Beads of sweat were dripping down his forehead, mingling with his tears. This was the worst. He couldn't cum, not now, not like this. The pain was blinding, and yet there was a mess of pleasure despite that, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold it in. Not if he was struck again. He tried to beg Snape to stop once more, but he couldn't even get his mouth to form the words.

Severus held him up, and swung the cane again.

Harry couldn't even count to five, because he was cuming in his pants as soon as the cane struck. His cum pulsed out of him, and it didn't seem to ever stop. It soaked the front of his pants thoroughly, and Harry couldn't even cover himself because his hands were still stuck.

Harry fell forward, his feet still stuck in place but his knees too weak to keep himself up. He landed in Snape's lap.

The man didn't say anything. He didn't move. If Harry had had the presence of mind to look at Snape's face he would have seen that his face was frozen in shock and there was a glittering of tears behind the man's eyelids.

 **The sticky charm came undone. Harry didn't hesitate. He threw himself away from Snape, and ran for the door. He ran out of the room, but he didn't stop there. He ran out the front door too. No one seemed to be after him, but he didn't slow down to check.**


	10. Chapter 10

Severus sat on the couch staring into space for a long time. His wand lay on the floor by his feet where he had dropped it. He could hear the warning bells go off that signaled that Harry had left the property. He knew he should go after the boy and compel him to come back but he didn't move.

 _I've failed you, Lilly._

Severus was not a stranger when it came to remorse. It was, however, his least favorite emotion. And he felt it now. Remorse and guilt, the knowledge that he could have and should have done things differently, that the outcome would be different if only he had acted in another way. It was his life's motto, his own personal story.

Glued in his mind was the images of the boy standing before him with tears in his terror-filled eyes, his mouth open as he gasped in pain. Images of the boy's shocked face when he began to cum. Images of him falling forward into Severus' lap with his feet still stuck to the ground, unable to stand any longer.

He didn't know the boy's body would react in that way. It shocked Severus as much as it had shocked Harry. Yet he had meant to humiliate Harry. He had meant to hurt him. Not that much, though. But why would Harry believe that? The boy had never trusted him, and now he never would. It was too late. No matter how many times he saved the boy's life the boy would never thank him for it. Remorse.

The truth was, he had liked hurting Harry. He liked the boy afraid of him, begging him to stop. He had felt like he was getting justice over James. Harry could have been his son, after all. He _should_ have been his son. How fitting that he would get guardianship over his enemy's child. When he punished Harry, he was getting revenge on a dead man. He had been glad when the boy had cried in front of him, utterly broken.

And he knew that Harry had known it too. Harry knew Severus had liked it. He had seen it in the boy's haunted eyes. He had heard it in his voice when he had pleaded for him to stop. He couldn't say, "I didn't mean it," because he had meant it, even if he hadn't meant _all_ of it. He had been much too harsh on the boy, and he only now realized it. Instead of helping Harry adjust his negative behavior he had become another problem in the boy's life.

 _I am no different than James. I am no different from my father, whom I swore I would never be like. I have failed myself, too. I swore I would never be like them. I have become everything I have despised the most. I have failed._

He covered his eyes with the palms of his hands and took in deep, ragged breaths, his mind whirling.

 _Lily, dear Lily, I am sorry._

Harry ran away. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't care.

Tears dripped down his face as he ran, but he didn't notice them or the wretched sobs that escaped his frail body. His groin really hurt with every step, but he hardly noticed. The pain was like background static. He just needed to get away.

He was running down a path in the forest that surrounded Snape's manner. His one goal was to get as far away as possible.

A tree root jutting across his path went unnoticed from his blurry tear-stained vision. His foot caught it and he went flying forward, falling on his side and skidding a few feet in the dirt. He lay there where he fell. His heart was beating so fast and loud it sounded like an orchestra in his ears, and his chest was heaving with his sobs.

He curled up on his side in the dirt, his thoughts whirling.

" _Please stop!" he had begged, but Severus didn't stop. His body had reacted anyway, betraying him, proving his freakishness. And Severus had enjoyed it, too._

 _It was just like with Jack. He had wanted sex, but when it came to changing his mind, Jack didn't care. Jack only cared about his own enjoyment._

 _Maybe this is the only thing my body is good for, being treated roughly._

 _If my own father was alive, would he have treated me in the same way? Maybe I do not deserve gentleness. Maybe-_

Harry let his thoughts run wild for a while as he lay down in the silence of the forest. He didn't like to cry generally, but at the moment he couldn't care less. It felt good to cry. It made him feel empty and drained, but even that was a relief.

After a bit he sat up and began to assess his injuries. He was covered with dirt on one half of his body, and he had scrapes on his left arm and knee. He must have hit a rock or something when he fell because his ribs hurt. Whatever.

He hesitated, then slid off his pants. He had welts on his balls. It hurt to move much. But most of the cum had dried, luckily. _Gross_. He threw his boxers into the woods. He didn't want them anymore.

He began down the path again, walking this time.

So far Snape hadn't appeared to take him back. Maybe the man had given up on him. Maybe he was so disgusted with Harry's bodily reaction that he didn't want to ever lay eyes on him ever again.

He didn't care. He'd rather face a party of dementors than the greasy git.

The trees began to clear ahead, revealing a regular muggle town. Harry began to walk down the road. He hadn't put shoes on in his hurried escape, and the asphalt was hot underfoot, but he didn't mind. It felt good, in a way. It felt free. He stuck his hands in the pocket of his jeans and tried his best not to limp at all.

There was a grocery store ahead. Harry walked up the automatic doors eagerly, thinking that booze was just the thing he needed. He halted when the doors swung open and cursed under his breath. He had forgotten his fake ID! And he had no money either. If only he had his invisibility cloak, he could go in and snuff some with no one the wiser. But he had nothing.

Shoulders sinking, he began walking back up to the road. A young man who looked to be in his early twenties was walking by. Harry stopped him before thinking it through.

The man looked at Harry, eyebrows raised. "What is it?"

"Um, I was wondering, uh, would you buy me a drink? Maybe a six-pack of beer? I-I don't have money, though. I could… I could blow you though? Yeah. I'm good at it. Just get me something I can get really wasted on."

The man looked Harry up and down, his face twisting together in a look of disgust.

Harry blushed. He had forgotten how he must look, covered in dirt and scrapes and with no shoes on. The guy probably thought he was homeless.

"I don't want your STD-filled mouth anywhere near me." The man walked quickly past him.

Well then. "Your loss!" shouted Harry, trying to sound offended. He wasn't. He had expected it. It was worth a try, anyway. It wasn't like _he_ had anything to lose.

Harry laid down on a piece of manicured lawn outside of the grocery store and shut his eyes. The sun felt like a warm blanket. He let himself drift off, refusing to care about anything.

He was nearly asleep when something very cold touched his forehead. He yelped and sat up. The man from before was standing over him, a bottle in his outstretched hand.

"That's… for me?" gasped Harry. "So you're taking me up on my offer?"

"Hell no," the man scoffed. "You just look like you can use the drink. This should get you properly shit-faced, so please don't drink in public where the cops can catch your young-ass."

Harry swallowed, not knowing how to deal with the unexpected kindness. He took the alcohol bottle in his hands. It was cold.

"Thank you," he whispered.

The man turned to walk back to his car. "After this, find other ways to deal with your emotions other than unsafe sex with strangers and underage binge drinking though, got it?"

Harry mutely nodded.


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks for the reviews everyone!

Harry passed out in the forest behind the grocery store, next to a large oak tree. The empty alcohol bottle lay beside him on the ground. He was dizzy from drinking too much too fast but it was a nice feeling. The dirt and leaves underneath him felt comfortable. He lay on the ground and let the spins take him away.

Voldemort could have shown up and he wouldn't have cared. He couldn't care about anything. He felt too good. He felt at home, somehow. Comfortable. He no longer cared about what happened to him, or anything at all. None of it really mattered anyway.

Kinda funny, how he always felt most at home when he was passed out drunk in the park at the end of Privet Drive, or now at the roots of some great tree. Maybe this was the most at home he'd ever get, after all. Maybe this was the best he was capable of feeling.

It didn't matter.

He became, after a while, aware of a presence standing over him. It was a familiar dark presence that he had grown used to over the past week: the potions professor. He didn't need to look up to recognize the man. He could recognize the feel of the man's gaze on him, even in his drunken state. The man just stood there in silence, looking down. It would have been unnerving if Harry was sober. But he was drunk, and he had expected the man, and he felt no fear.

"Leave me 'lone," he slurred. "I wanna live here now," he waved his hand at the tree.

"Let's go home, Potter." Snape reached down and pulled Harry to his feet.

Harry tried to twist his arm away. "I don't have a home!" he shouted, pangs of anger obliterating his calm. He pulled away from Snape so hard that he stumbled backwards, and would have fallen if Snape hadn't caught him in his arms. "You don't want me. My family doesn't want me. I don't have a home." He sniffed, but he didn't try to pull away this time. He knew that the only thing he was capable of at the moment was falling. He couldn't even walk in a straight line at this point. His glasses had dropped to the ground but he didn't notice. Snape picked them up and put them in the pocket of his robe. "I miss my cupboard."

"Mmm? What's there that you miss?" Snape had never seen the boy so willing to talk. He was torn between frustration over the drunken idiot and curiosity.

"That's where I lived, stupid! Didn't you know?" he giggled like a schoolgirl. "I'd be forgotten. Sometimes that's nicer."

"Nicer than what?"

"Being remembered," croaked Harry, vaguely.

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Why does it hurt to be remembered?"

Harry had a haunted look in his eyes, as if he was deep in thought. "I'm a freak."

The boy wasn't making sense. Not that Snape had expected him to. Harry was in so state of mind to hold an intelligible conversation. He picked Harry up bridal-style and apparated them back to the manner.

The boy was much too light for his age.

Drunk Potter was like a young child with no filter. Snape may have found it amusing under different circumstances, and if he wasn't so worried. A few hours had passed before Harry had run away and Snape had gone to get him, and already the boy was covered with dirt and scratches and had consumed a dangerous amount of alcohol.

It could have been worse, he supposed. There could have been dementors or death eaters, all things considered. Instead the boy was his own worst enemy. A few hours unsupervised and he had already gotten himself in trouble. Severus would have been angry at him if he didn't partially blame himself for provoking the boy to this. He swallowed every bitter cutting word he wanted to make and instead forced himself to handle the boy gently.

 _Think of Lily_ , he told himself. _This is for Lily._

He placed Potter on the boy's bed and began to tug off the boy's shirt. Harry grabbed the hem of his shirt and held it down, a whimper escaping his lips.

"'Potter," Severus tried to school his voice and keep it gentle despite his mounting frustration. "You are dirty and hurt. I need to see. You need to get changed. And you have no way of doing these things on your own at the moment. Do you want to go to bed dirty?"

"Nooo," Harry groaned. "If I am so dirty, why you wanna see me naked, hmm?" He wiped tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. "I don' wanna have sex with you."

Snape choked on air. What was going through the boys head to have him leap to such conclusions? "Well, I am glad we are on the same page then."

"Yeah." Harry's grip went suddenly weak and Snape could tell he was bordering on the edge of consciousness. His face was lax and his eyes half-way drooped, seeming to have forgotten his panic from a moment ago. No doubt he would remember none of these happenings the next day, for which Severus was thankful. He didn't want Harry's view of him to be tainted by one night of gentleness. Better to have the boy think he doesn't care and that the man wouldn't clean up after his bad decisions. It would be easier that way for them both. Severus pried Harry's slackening hands away and slipped off his shirt.

He felt, in that moment, like he had been punched in the gut and he was gasping for air but none met his lungs.

The boy's back had raised scars and bruises on it from countless beatings, some of them recent with only half-healed cuts, some of them very old. It was all written on his body like a guide book. And his bones were much too prominent, as if he had been starved.

And Severus, for a second, felt like he was looking at a picture of himself as a young boy in third person. It was like he had gone back in time to see himself, curled up and feebly lying on a large bed. How was it possible that _this_ boy had faced such hardship? How had he been so utterly wrong?

Harry. Harry. The boy that the world failed. The wizarding world's savior, the boy that everyone knew but no one noticed. Snape's mind darted back to the enigmatic letter Draco had left a few days ago.

 _Severus, please go easy on Potter. He's not who you think he is. Even I misunderstood._

Not just Draco and Severus. The whole wizarding world misunderstood. Harry had fallen through the safety net of the wizarding society. Harry, a boy whom the world professed to need, yet he had the greatest need of all. And somehow he had kept it all a secret, for who knows how long. Who even knew the measures he went through to cover it all up and hide away. He was more sly than a slytherin. And somehow no one had noticed. They had only seen what they wanted to see.

Snape stared at the slight figure of the boy, fast asleep. Harry's chest rose and fell gently with each breath he took. He looked very young and at peace at the moment, as if he had not a single care. Only his creamy white skin betrayed him with angry blue blotches. The scars disappeared underneath his pant line. Snape hesitated for a moment, then gently slid the boy's jeans down.

Severus felt himself panic when he realized the boy was not wearing any undergarments. A quick spell told him that the boy had no further bodily trauma, so at least he hadn't been forced in the few hours he had been gone, as he at first thought. It was a small relief, however. The scars hadn't stopped at his lower back. They covered his buttocks and his thighs as well. Severus had expected as much, at this point.

He rolled the boy over onto his stomach to assess his injuries more closely. He felt nauseous. The only thing that sated him was the thought of revenge on the muggles who had treated a child this way. They would not get away with this. No adult deserved to live after treating a child this way.

Harry began to stir, his deep breathes speeding up and becoming panicked gasps as he awoke.

Snape gently held him face-down with a hand placed between his shoulder blades. The boy was much too drunk to struggle successfully anyway. "Potter, go back to sleep. You're safe."

"No!" Harry cried, thrashing his head violently. I don't want to do this!"

Severus felt his stomach sink at the raw terror in the boy's voice. "Potter, what don't you want to do?"

Harry didn't seem to hear him. "Please, let me up. I don't want to. I changed my mind. Please don't." the boy dissolved into sobs that wracked his frail body.

"Potter, it's just me, Severus." Snape, acting on sudden impulse, picked the boy up and brought him into his lap. " _Harry,_ Harry, it's me, Snape. Calm down. You're safe."

The boy seemed to calm at the sound of his name, or maybe at the feeling of Snape's chest and warm arms around him. He curled up like a lost puppy, and closed his unfocused eyes, his breathing growing calmer.

"Harry, what happened?" whispered Snape, unsure if the boy was even conscious enough to hear him.

"He was so kind to me," sniffed Harry. "I wanted him, so it was my fault, I think."

 **He squeezed his teary eyes shut, buried his face into Snape's robe, and promptly fell asleep, his fisted hands twisted in the folds of Snape's robes.**


	12. Chapter 12

The first thing Snape did was charm a few potions into the boy's stomach: one to diminish the effects of alcohol, the other to put him in a drug-induced slumber. The boy should stay unconscious for the next 8 hours.

He wished he could floo for Madam Pomfrey, but the women was working at Saint Mungus for the summer. Snape resigned himself to heal Potter himself. He had the necessary skills, but it wasn't something he wanted to do. This was Potter, after all, and Snape wasn't a professional healer by any means. The boy would probably prefer Madam Pomfrey to him, but this was an emergency. He couldn't just let this go, no matter how unpleasant for the both of them.

He filled up the bathtub with warm water and soap and carefully cleaned the boy's limp body from the fresh scrapes and dirt he had acquired. He had to hold the boy up and by the end of the bath he succeeded in wearing half the water on himself. After drying Harry he laid him stomach-down on the bed.

After Harry was clean and dry Snape cast a diagnostic spell on the boy's body. The results were anything but pleasant. Aside from the visible wounds he had an arm, two fingers, and several ribs that had been broken in the past and had not healed properly. He was also malnourished. Snape was thankful that he had made it a rule that meals were not to be skipped. At least the boy had been eating properly for the past week. If he had been left at the Dursleys for the remainder of the summer it was doubtful his body would have held up at this rate.

Snape had to feed the boy skele-grow by pouring it into his mouth and massaging his trachea to help it go down. With any luck the boy would stay sleeping and the bones would be completely healed by the time he woke up.

Essie, his house elf, was at his side. She had a worried expression on her face and, when Snape wasn't sending her back and forth to get more potions to keep her distracted, she shifted restlessly on her feet. Her worried expression mirrored how Snape felt, even if his emotions were hidden from long years of practice as a spy.

He coated bruise salve on Harry's back, buttocks, and thighs- the most injured places. He would have to let it sit on for several hours to take away some of the worst tissue damage. It would need to be applied several times to vanish scars, but a singular use would heal the bruises and cuts after a few hours.

The boy would have to lie flat on his stomach naked while the salve did it's job. Snape flicked the fireplace in the room on so that Harry's body stayed warm.

By the time he had done it was nearing 12 o'clock at night. He decided he needed to talk to Dumbledore at once now that Harry was stabilized and would remain unconscious. It was an emergency and he would not wait all night until the morning to speak to the man. He sent Essie ahead of him to warn Dumbledore of the impending visit.

Snape stormed into Dumbledore's office soon after, his black robes bellowing behind him like a storm cloud. He had been working for the past few hours to heal Harry, and his adrenaline was still running high. "No, I do not want to sit, and I do not want a lemon drop," he said upon entering.

Dumbledore was sitting and drinking tea. He was wearing his pajama robes, which, not surprisingly, looked like his regular every-day robes. The one difference was that the cloth was printed with cartoon candies. Snape figured he should not be surprised, but they were so ridiculous he almost laughed at the absurdity of it anyway.

"I did not expect to see you this late!" exclaimed Dumbledore. "How is Harry? Is he asleep? You should have brought him for tea if you were visiting."

"Potter is not well. In fact, it seems he has not been well for quite some time- if, in fact, he has ever been well."

Now that Snape was in a position of having to explain the situation he started to feel overwhelmed and, more than anything, angry.

Dumbledore's face looked slightly more aged in that second, and his eyes lost their normal twinkle. "Whatever do you mean, Severus?" he asked in a quiet tone.

Snape continued pacing the room, his hands behind his back, his robes sweeping the floors. "The Boy Wonder, Savior of the Wizarding World, has been physically abused. Not just once and not just a light knocking around, but severely, and systematically for a long time. I have only just found out this afternoon and spent many hours assessing his various injuries and healing him. I have not yet questioned him as to who did this to him, but why do I need to even do such a thing? It's obvious that the blame goes to that blasted muggle family you have him living with for-what was it?-oh yes, for his protection."

Dumbledore seemed to crumble even more. Somehow the wizard appeared much older and deflated, like an apple core left out in the sun for too long. All the normal vibrancy that the man had was no wheres to be seen. "Severus, I never knew the boy was treated that way. He always spoke of his family as unpleasant, yet he never mentioned abuse! He must have gone to such great lengths to hide it. Surely you must understand what he is going through? Did you not deal with similar circumstances in your youth and tried your best to hide it?"

Snape stopped pacing, his blood running cold. "Don't bring my life into this!" he snapped angrily. "This has nothing to do with me. This is Potter that we are speaking of, your special golden boy. We cannot let this abuse go on."

"Of course not! No child should have to experience what Harry has gone through." Dumbledore looked grave.

Severus was still angry. He clenched and unclenched his fists, unsure of where to direct his anger. He was angry at Dumbledore for not recognizing the abuse earlier, but he was angry at himself for the very same reason. Finally he collapsed on the couch across from Dumbledore. He felt suddenly exhausted, the events of the past few hours catching up with him.

"I will not keep the boy with me," Snape muttered. "You cannot force me to do it any longer. I will no longer be able to look at him the same way knowing that we share this similarity. And-and, I am afraid I have hurt the boy. I did not understand what he has already gone through, and I have mistreated him. Neither do I hold it in my ability to stop doing so. I find myself increasingly resembling my own father." He passed his hand over his eyes and shuddered. He hated being this honest, but he needed to be to get his point across. He would not keep Potter. He had done his part in finding out this dark secret, bringing it to light, and healing the boy. His responsibility ended now.

Snape expected Dumbledore to try to refute what Severus had said and then try to manipulate him to keep Harry, maybe offering a few comforting words first such as 'you didn't mean it,' and 'I believe in you' or 'you are not your father." He was surprised when Dumbledore agreed immediately without any protest. "Very well, then."

Snape's head shot up. "You mean it, then? I don't have to keep him? But he cannot go back to the Dursleys!"

"He won't." Dumbledore took a sip of his now cold tea. "It has come to my attention during the past day that Harry has another relative that no one has been aware of. He is a second step cousin of Lily who has been living in Canada for the past twenty years, and has only now moved back to London this past summer. He is a muggle man, a lawyer, yet familiar with wizarding society, and is seeking to connect with family over here. He is interested in getting guardianship over Harry. He knew Lily when they were children, it seems."

"I have never heard of the man!" snorted Snape. "Don't you find this suspicious? The man has never showed up before, no one has heard of him, and all of the sudden he wants guardianship?"

"I have already spoken to the Order, and established everything. His house has been warded, and Harry will stay with him temporarily for a trial period. If both are of agreeance he can stay permanently."

Severus knew he should feel elated. It wasn't that he wasn't relieved over the news that Harry would no longer be his burden. It was just that he still found these circumstances suspicious.

"When will the man come to collect Harry?"

"Best not wait. Tomorrow will do."

"And to whom do I owe my gratitude?"

"His name is Jack. Jack Hankes."


	13. Chapter 13

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Harry awoke because the morning sunlight shining through the window fell gently on his eyelids. He shifted and groaned happily, the mattress under him feeling like a cloud. He felt well rested, more well-rested than ever before. Since when had he awoke feeling so good, without even a singular bad dream? Maybe _this_ was the dream. Reality was painful, and for once in his life he felt free from pain.

He opened his eyes when memories came back to him: namely, getting shit faced in the forest. Snape had came to fetch him from the muggle village. That was all he could remember of last night. Damn, he was in so much trouble!

He sat up in bed with a gasp.

He had run away after getting punished in a humiliating way, and then...oh god no… what had he been thinking?

"Do try to keep your jumping around like a banshee to a minimum. Your body is recovering," said a voice by his side.

Harry was so shocked he almost fell off his bed. His head whipped around to stare at the dark, brooding figure of Snape, collapsed in a chair by his bed side. But why was the man in his room? And while he was sleeping as well! Harry stared at the man in shock, noticing the bags under his eyes and his ruffled hair, as if _he_ was the one who got smashed up the night before. It was then that his words finally penetrated Harry's skull.

"Re...recovering?"

He looked down at his lap, realization flaring, and then swung the blankets away. He was wearing soft white pajamas that he had never even seen before. Which meant that… Snape had changed his clothes..? Which meant- No! There was charms to change someone into new clothes, wasn't there?

His heart beat skyrocketed and his breathing came in sharp gasps as he tried to reason with himself, that Snape did _not know_ his secrets, that he had charmed pajamas on the boy and cleaned him with a spell.

But then… he could not remember the last time he had been completely free of bodily pain. And he did not hurt at all. He didn't even have a hangover headache. That wouldn't be possible unless...

"Yes, Potter, I am well acquainted with all your injuries," Snape drawled as if reading his thoughts. His voice held the familiar annoyed sound, as if he was being inconvenienced.

Harry doubled over, hugging his arms securely around his chest. He was gasping in air but he felt like he wasn't getting any. His blinked away the darkness creeping in at the corner of his vision. "It's not what you think!" he gasped.

"Oh?" Snape lazily crossed one leg over the other and leaned back as if he was about to relish something particularly entertaining. "And what do I think, Potter? Do tell me."

"You think-you probably think-" _You think poor boy Harry Potter, couldn't protect himself from a muggle but must defeat a dark lord. Wait until the wizarding world hears about how pathetic and defenseless you are. No one will respect you ever again. You will be pitied by all. No one will look at you the same._ "I just, I got in a fight! Some muggle boys they-"

"They beat you systematically throughout many years? With a _belt buckle_?" Snape's voice had been calm, but was growing louder and angrier as he went on. "You're going to tell me _muggle boys_ did this?"

"No! Not just them. I mean sometimes I am careless and I -"

"Oh, are you going to tell me you fell down the steps repeatedly, because you're clumsy? Maybe you slam yourself into walls as well? Oh, or you _like_ being beaten within an inch of your life for some kinky sex reason? Try harder, Potter. Maybe you sleep walk and ride your broom-completely unconsciously- into a tree. Every. Single. Night."

"No!" screamed Harry. "Stop it!" He couldn't breathe. He really couldn't. This was too much. His world was falling apart. It was too humiliating. He couldn't stand this.

Snape was standing over his bedside and speaking to him in a tone that was almost _gentle_. It took awhile for Harry to recognize the man's presence, or even to hear the words.

"Potter, you're hyperventilating. Deep breathes. That's it. Deep breathes. In 1, 2, 3 now hold it. Out, 1, 2, 3…" He was repeating this mantra until Harry followed it. Harry's vision began to clear and he could breath again, his panic attack receding.

Snape was sitting on his bed side, too close for comfort. His eyes were piercing, and Harry shied back a bit, dropping his gaze down to his trembling hands in his lap.

"Why are you pretending you care?" Harry asked, his voice hitching with emotion. "I know you don't! And I can take care of myself. I've done it this far. I don't need you! I don't want you to help me."

"Since when have I cared what you've wanted?" Snape scoffed. "I may not care about you as an individual, Potter, but as a teacher of hogwarts _and_ your guardian I will not let your abuse go untreated."

That word settled in the pit of Harry's stomach like a hot ball of anxiety. "You're being dramatic. It wasn't abuse, not really." He forced his voice to be light-hearted. "I mean, yeah, I was mistreated. But you of all people must know how difficult I can be, right? I don't have to even _do_ anything for people to despise me. Existing is enough. I'm sure you'd do the same if I was living with you for long. The punishments would just escalate until they were just as bad as before I got here. After all, you hated me before you even knew me!" Harry shied back as the words left his mouth, wishing he could retract them. Maybe Snape would agree with him and punish him now. That's what his uncle would do.

 _So, boy, you think I hate you? You think my punishments get worse then this? Well, you're right about one thing in that dunder head of yours!_

Snape had stiffened. He had a strange look on his face. What was it? Regret? Sorrow? Could Snape even feel such emotions?

"It is true," Snape began slowly. "That I have not treated you with your best interest in mind in the past. Indeed, at times I have acted most disgracefully in my handling of you. My prejudices have clouded by judgement of you as an individual. Even now I am having to adjust my perception of you to something more _accurate_."

Harry's eyes grew wide as he stared at Snape with amazement. The man looked like he was chewing something distasteful, but he looked sincere. Was this Snape's way of apologizing?

Harry's heart leapt a little. The man had healed him, after all, and more than once at this point. He had healed his broken toes with that balm, and now he had healed his other injuries instead of punishing him. Every day he had made sure Harry ate meals and helped him with his homework. Maybe, just maybe, they could get along at some point? Maybe the man would actually start seeing Harry as Harry? Maybe if Harry behaved extra well and the man wouldn't need to punish him so severely. Maybe Harry could help the house elves or prep potions and Snape would even start to appreciate the boy and realize his value. Maybe-

Hope blossomed in Harry. He no longer wanted to be _Potter_. He wanted to become _Harry_. He would change Snape's view of him, if it was the last thing he did. He would make the man like him!

"Sir!" Harry looked up, his large green eyes were swimming with so much emotion that it took Snape's breath away. "Thank you for healing me! I will accept whatever punishment you decide to give me for running away and getting drunk. I was a coward and I disrespected you, and...and you have been so nice to me." His voice cracked. "No adult has ever cared so much, and you didn't have to, so thank you."

Snape's gut twisted with guilt at the words. "Potter, I have done the minimum of what any half-decent adult would do in such a situation. If you think that my healing you was needless kindness than you have only known the worst kind of adults."

Harry's emerald eyes were quizzical, his head tilted as he listed with bated breathe. Trying to get the boy to understand his words, Snape clasped Harry on the shoulder, ignoring the way the boy startled.

"Listen to me, Potter. You deserve adults who protect you and take care of your basic needs. This includes emotional needs. Every child deserves this. The adults in your life have failed you. Even me." Snape took a deep breath and released Harry's shoulders, turning away. "I know how much you detest me, and with good reason. I have not treated you the way you deserve. But you needn't worry about that any longer. A new guardian has been appointed for you."

Harry felt like he had been punched in the stomach. One second Snape had been apologizing, and now he was just pawning Harry off? "Wh-what?" Harry gasped. "You're getting rid of me?"

"I'm not getting _rid_ of you, foolish boy. I am handing over your guardianship to someone more qualified. The person is a relative of Lily's, not related to you by blood. Nevertheless, he has expressed interest in taking care of you for the time being. Dumbledore and the Order have pronounced him safe." Snape scowled to himself. _Not like they have been wrong before or anything,_ he thought silently.

Harry's disappointment was crushing. Of course Snape didn't want him. He had run away and gotten drunk, and that was after getting punished for his _last_ transgression. Snape wasn't a patient man, and any patience that he had with the boy must have ran out last night. Maybe now that Snape knew about Harry's past he didn't want to dirty himself with Harry anymore. Maybe he couldn't handle the teenager. Harry had screwed up beyond repair. This was the worst kind of punishment. He had never been wanted, but he had never been this _unwanted_. Harry had expected punishments. He didn't expect to lose his place with Snape so shortly after arriving. He thought the man would _handle_ him, not give up on him.

Snape stood up and walked to the door. "Get dressed and ready yourself for the day, then meet me downstairs for breakfast. After you may pack your belongings. Your new guardian will be arriving later today." He shut the door behind him.

Harry let the tears come then.


	14. Chapter 14

Packing only took five minutes for Harry. He silently threw his belongings into his trunk, thinking that it had only been a week since he had taken them out. No matter how much Harry had wanted to leave Snape's manor at the time, he didn't think the time would come so soon.

Snape hadn't given him much information on his new guardian at all. He wondered what kind of person would want custody of him without even knowing him. It must be a very kind person, he figured. He hoped he didn't botch it like he did with Snape.

At breakfast Snape was quiet, as usual. However, there was a tension in the air that was unusual. Harry wondered if he was imagining it. The man seemed even more irritated than usual, but he didn't even seem to notice Harry, lost in his own thoughts.

"Uh, sir, may I ask a question?" he broke the silence at last, after a few minutes of poking at his porridge.

Snape looked up quickly, as if startled out of his thoughts.

"If my new guardian decided he doesn't want me will I, you know, be sent back to the Dursleys?" Harry swallowed his dry throat and regarded his porridge as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

"You will not be going back there. Not ever."

Snape's voice was so stern that Harry believed him immediately.

"It wasn't all bad," muttered Harry. He felt strangely warmed at Snape's words, despite himself. He could almost pretend the man cared.

"Well, I'm sure you enjoyed your run-away attempts and other reckless endangerment between the beatings, but none of these occurrences will be happening again, I can assure you."

Harry nodded, only slightly put off. "Will you, uh, will you tell anyone? It's just, I don't want my new guardian to know. Or anyone at Hogwarts, either. I don't want the slytherins to find out! Or even my friends! Please, sir. Promise me you won't tell!"

"Dumbledore has already been informed," Snape announced gravely. "As for my snakes; it is none of their business what kind of past you have had, though I can assure you that your family life would not be altogether unfamiliar to all of them. Same for your new guardian. That is up to you. As for your friends, it is not my duty to inform them, though I think _you_ should. Friends are there for a reason."

Harry cleared his throat and nodded. He would _not_ inform them! They were the people he cared about most and he didn't want their opinion of him to change no matter what. They were all he had. He couldn't bare the thought of them judging him, even in a pitying way.

An hour passed. Snape had made tea in the sitting room, and Harry sat tensely in his seat, Snape across him. His new guardian would be arriving momentarily, and Harry was nervous. He tried to take sips of his tea but his hands were shaking so badly that some of the hot liquid splashed onto his lap and Snape had to put a cooling charm on him so it didn't burn his skin.

Snape was watching him carefully from under his dark fringe. His mood seemed to be growing worse since breakfast. Harry would have been worried about this if he wasn't so worried about everything else.

"Potter, the floo system has already been set up between the two houses. In two days time I will come for you and bring you back here for the afternoon. You may have felt free of pain this morning, but I need to assess your healing progress once or twice more."

Snape also wanted to check up on Harry's guardian, but he didn't admit this. He suspected that Dumbledore had been going senile for awhile, at least in his character judgment. He didn't trust this new guardian that the old coot had so readily appointed.

An alarm went off, signifying that the wards had been breached, and Harry jumped. His knees hit the coffee table and nearly upset the tea again.

Snape stood. "Stay here and collect yourself. I will greet him and usher him in."

Harry sat for a few very long moments, trying to take deep breathes like Snape had showed him just that morning. He studied the tea leaves at the bottom of his cup and pretended to make sense of them, even though he really didn't have a good imagination or even much faith for that type of thing.

The door opened and Harry sprang to his feet. Snape walked into the room, his robes bellowing characteristically. Behind him walked a man.

It was the last person that Harry expected to ever run into again for it was Jack, from that hapless night seven long days ago.

The man was dressed in a firm-fitted business suit complete with a tie, as if he had just gotten out of the office. He had shiny black shoes on and his gray-tipped hair was styled smartly. He regarded Harry with a warm smile radiating on his face and stretched out his hand in greeting.

Harry stared at the man, his lower jaw unhinged, his eyes as wide as a house elf.

"Potter!" snapped Severus. "Show some manners!"

"It's fine! It's fine!" chortled Jack good-naturedly. He stuck his hand in his pocket and shrugged his shoulders. "The poor child, this whole thing must come as a shock. After all, I never did know Lily had a child, and dear Harry had never heard of me, either! To think we are only meeting for the first time now!"

Harry stared. He was so shocked that his response mechanism seemed to be on pause. Usually he knew enough of how to operate in any given situation to get by, but right now he was at a complete loss.

"You must have been very close to Lily if you never even knew of her child," grunted Snape darkly, seating himself down and waving for Jack to do the same.

"We were childhood friends! That is, before I went to college in Canada and moved away and lost contact with my family and friends here. After Lily's passing I never did keep in contact with Petunia. Most unfortunate, but I was young and reckless and didn't recognize the importance of family connections back then. I am thankful to be back in London and picking up from where I left off."

Snape had been watching Harry out of the corner of his eyes as he politely pretended to give Jack his undivided attention. The boy continued to stand, face blank, staring. Unable to stand it any longer, Snape shouted "POTTER! SIT DOWN!"

Harry jumped as if he was waking from a dream, and then sat down so quickly that Snape, for a moment, thought he had fainted. What was wrong with the boy?

"Please do forgive Potter. He is often tactless when it comes to social charms, yet even I have not seen him this.. _.inanimate_ … before." He spoke these words pointedly, seeking to provoke a reaction from Harry, who sat as if petrified.

"It is quite all right!" Jack assured again. "This whole situation must be shocking to him. I can hardly blame the poor chap."

Severus stood up stiffly and picked up the teapot. "I will let you two introduce yourselves while I make new tea, as this batch seems to have gone cold." He exited the room. It had been his plan to give Harry some privacy with the man, but the boy didn't seem to be reacting well at all as of yet.

As soon as Snape had left the room Harry realized he had a million questions he wanted to ask, and they all seemed to slip out of his mouth at once, coming out in a long unintelligible sentence. "What-HOW-but why-I mean you-but you weren't-are you really-I don't understa-"

Jack held up his hand palm-first and chuckled. "You sure are full of questions, Harry! Or should I say _Carl_?" he arched an eyebrow.

"So you do remember?" he mentally crossed that off his list of questions. "But is it true, you are… family?"

"Family is more than blood, Harry. True family is more often found. Though not related to you by blood, I want to make you my family. I always considered your mother family, even if we were distant cousins."

Harry's hands shook in his lap. He didn't realize it until that moment, but those words resonated with him as if he had been waiting his whole life to hear them.

"But..but...your phone number...you never gave it to me…" he choked out the words. That memory was most painful, the way Jack had coldly turned away from the pleading Harry.

"I had heard about you from Petunia a few weeks before meeting you that fateful night. I asked what you looked like, if you looked like your mother, and she only brought up the scar on your forehead and how it looked like a lightning bolt. The night at the club I didn't notice it. Your hair was styled over it. But after we slept together, I smoothed the hair out of your eyes once you had fallen asleep. To my utter shock, you we the boy she had mentioned, the one I had planned to meet! Please don't blame me, Harry. I know I came across as rude, but I was simply so surprised, I did not know how to handle the situation."

Harry stared at him, drinking in the words. His face clouded suddenly, and he shuddered. "But that night… you…" his words dyed out altogether as shame overtook him as the memories came flooding back.

Jack looked at him with a simpering smile as if he was regarding a small child. He leaned in closer to Harry and whispered seductively, "you were lovely in bed, Harry. You were like a wild sex demon, so alluring, a true slut. I was shocked when I discovered your identity, but I have not regretted a single moment of that night."

Harry shifted away from the man, shaking his head. "But I- I don't- I don't remember _anything_." He thought he remembered Jack pushing his head down and choking him out, but now he wasn't so sure. Maybe it had only seemed that way? His memory of the night had some horrible glitches in it.

Jack's smile turned into a worried frown. "You had a lot to drink, so it's no wonder. It was really my own fault. I shouldn't have allowed you to drink so much, but you seemed to be having so much fun! I am sorry you don't remember the good time that you had, but," he straightened his back, "we can always re-make those memories."

Harry shuddered. He felt simultaneously sick to his stomach, and yet drawn to the handsome man. He wanted to be desired more than anything. He wanted to belong to someone who wanted him, and he wanted a family. The man was attractive and alluring, and yet the man's words left Harry's skin crawling. He had the desire to take a long hot shower and scrub his skin off. What if the man's words were true? Harry had thought that Jack was the villain this whole time. But what if Harry had been a mad sex freak in bed? What if he begged for everything every step of the way and enjoyed it too?

"Just please," begged Harry, "don't tell Snape! He wouldn't approve."

 **Jack patted Harry's knee in a gesture of reassurance. "Don't worry. No one needs to know anything about us."**


	15. Chapter 15

Jack's home was in downtown London. The exterior of the building was very old-style and historical, but the inside was very modern and completely re-furnished. His apartment was large, two stories, with many rooms, high ceilings, and large windows. Everything was spotlessly white.

Harry could count the number of muggle houses he had been in on one hand. And of those houses he had never been in such a high-class one. It was certainly more interesting to him than a wizard's manor.

Jack was showing him around, and Harry hung back a few feet behind him, not wanting to be too close to the man. The man seemed to be very cheerful and hospital, but Harry wasn't going to let his guard down. He tiptoed as he followed, careful not to track dirt anywhere or upset the cleanliness of the place. Petunia would have disinfected the very air Harry breathed out if she had lived in such a place.

Snape had given him back his wand before he left. Harry had stuck it down his waistband and pulled his shirt over the top part. It wasn't like he could use it or anything, but just feeling it against his bare skin made him feel safe and a bit more courageous.

"You-you're a, uh, lawyer?" he spoke up finally.

"Mmhm," Jack opened up a door to yet another room and waved him in. "I'm a lawyer, yes, but my grandmother left me her inheritance. As you can tell, it was a decent chunk." The room Harry was being shown had large black leather couches, and a huge flat-screen tv. "This is my gaming room," Jack said proudly. He rummaged around in the cabinet and began pulling out gaming consoles. "I don't have as much time to play anymore, sadly, but you are free to play whenever you want." He pointed to a mini fridge in the corner. "I keep that stocked in booze, so help yourself."

Harry was left with his mouth hanging open, gasping. There was so many video games! Dudley would have simply killed for this. Dudley had a lot of expensive games, but the Dursleys were nowheres near this rich and so he didn't even have this much. And even if he had, Harry had never been allowed to touch Dudley's stuff anyway. He had always wanted to play, but had to settle with discreetly watching at those times when Dudley was fully immersed and wouldn't notice him.

"I still work," Jack was speaking. "I'll be gone from nine to five every day accept the weekend. Sometimes later if I have meetings or if I go to the gym. Feel free to eat whatever you can find. I keep everything well-stocked. Usually I order takeout for dinner, but there is plenty of food if I am out. I hope that's okay with you."

"Excellent!" exclaimed Harry, just happy that he wouldn't have to cook for them, and that Jack would be gone for most of the day.

"You can watch movies and play games whenever. I don't have many books but I'll leave my kindle. Mister Snape also mentioned that you have summer homework? I hope you are able to entertain yourself when I am absent." The man looked genuinely concerned.

"I'm pretty good at that," Harry said. After all, anything other than being in a cupboard was an upgrade, as far as he was concerned. And now he wouldn't have to study nearly as much as when he was with Snape.

"You can bum around outside, but you have to be within a three mile radius of the apartment, I am sad to say. At least, that is what I was told. There is a park and some little shops around here at least."

Harry's ears perked up at that. "I can go out?" he gasped. "Are you certain?"

"Aye," Jack chuckled. "I mean, that's what I was told, so why question your luck? I don't know how these wards work, but I purchased a muggle phone for you and an extra apartment key so you can have a gps and get around easier."

Gratefulness surged in Harry as the man handed over his smart phone. He felt a bit guilty he had felt so suspicious of the man, and that he was still a bit uncomfortable around him.

"What are my, uh, chores?" he asked. He had really wanted to ask about _consequences_ _for rule breaking_ , but he didn't feel like ruining his mood by bringing that up, and Jack hadn't really given rules yet. Still, he knew there had to be a catch to all this _niceness_. Why would someone be nice to him and take him in unless there was a catch? Like, you know, defeating a dark lord or something?

"Chores?" Jack voiced the word as if it was in a foreign language. "Oh, no need to do any of those. I have a house-keeper come in twice a week to clean for a few hours. If you really feel the need to do chores, I'm sure I can find something for you to do for me." The man winked, and Harry felt his face flush.

"It's okay," he hurriedly said. "It's not like I like chores or anything." He didn't care how ungrateful he sounded. He was just being honest, after all. And he certainly didn't want Jack to _make up_ stuff for him to do. He didn't want to find out what those things would be.

Jack showed Harry to his new room and left him to unpack. Harry was grateful for the privacy, and he closed the door behind him. He went to lock it, only to find that it didn't have a lock. He wasn't sure why he wanted to lock it, but he suddenly wanted one. And if there was anything that he hated normally, it was closed rooms and locked doors.

Harry's room wasn't quite as large as his one at Snape's manor, but it was immaculately clean, white like the rest of the house, and he had his own bathroom again. There was no lock on that door either, and Harry felt his heart sink a bit. Who the hell made bathroom doors without locks? Wasn't it supposed to be a universal courtesy or something?

There was a large sheepskin rug on the floor buy his bed, and Harry shuffled his feet through the thick fur as he unpacked, which boosted his mood a bit.

All in all Jack seemed to be a bit flirtatious, bordering on possible creepiness, but he hadn't lunged at him or tried to fucking bite him again or anything of the sort, and he hadn't even said anything about rules and consequences. And for the first time Potter had a phone and could go about as he pleased! Maybe life would be bearable after all.

Dinner was chinese takeout and cold beer. They ate in the living room while Jack flipped through channels on the tv. The food was really fried and greasy and delicious, as far as Harry was concerned. He hesitated about drinking, remembering last time he had gotten drunk with the man, but he cracked a bottle anyway because free alcohol. It wasn't like a drink or two would take him completely off his guard.

That night Harry dreamed. He was used to nightmares, used to waking up in a cold sweat at the Dursleys, used to stifling his screams with his sheets so that Vernon wouldn't wake up. Sometimes it worked, other times it didn't. Luckily Snape's room was located far enough away in the manor where the man didn't wake up to his screams. There was no such luck in Jack's house.

Snape had watched Potter leave to go to his new home with an uncomfortable feeling resting in the pit of his stomach. Concern. The boy was white and seemed to be in a state of shock ever since his new guardian had arrived. Snape had the overwhelming desire to legitimize the boy to see inside his head, but he stifled it, not wanting to invade the boy's private emotions for no reason but to satisfy his own curiosity. The boy already hated him enough as it was. Being nervous over a new guardian who was a stranger was probably normal anyway.

He did, however, give Harry a vile of calming draught discretely under the table while Jack was chatting. Harry didn't take it. Neither had he so much as touched his breakfast that morning, much to Snape's dismay **.** He decided not to push the boy.

Ever since Harry was a small child Snape had time and time again gone to rescue him. It was a hassle, but it was his duty, and he did it as an obligation to Lily. Yet seeing Harry now, Snape was worried, and it had nothing to do with Lily or any sense of obligation he felt. He was simply concerned. It was a new emotion for him.

After Potter had departed Snape did not wait around any longer. He left as well, a certain destination in mind. He was angry, and he was going to get revenge. It had been on his mind since the night before. It had been his one thought while he had healed Potter's body, and it never left for a moment since then.

 **He was going to pay a visit to number Four Privet Drive.**


	16. Chapter 16

warning for chapter: violence

Stay safe and strong with this election you guys

As soon as the dream started Harry knew exactly which dream it would be. Last year he had this dream on repeat almost every night. The fact that he knew which dream it was didn't make it any less scary though.

 _He was in the graveyard. Everything was so realistic it was like he had been transported back in time and was re-living it. The night air was cold but Harry was sweating despite it. He was staring at Cedric's dead face, now motionless, and thinking that it should be him lying there. Cedric didn't deserve to die, but Harry had been narrowly escaping death since the day he was born._

 _"Cedric!" Harry screamed, and fell to his knees beside the body, grabbing the boy's shoulders as if he could shake life into the body._

 _"He's not going to wake up, you know," said a voice._

 _He didn't need to turn to know who it was. He had had this dream many times before after all. He knew exactly what was going to happen. And yet each time he had this dream it felt like he was experiencing it for the first time. Every emotion was just as sharp, and he couldn't alter the dream no matter how hard he tried._

 _He turned, and Sirius was standing there, a disappointed look on his face, his arms hanging limply at his side._

 _Harry sprang to his feet and rushed towards his godfather, a sob catching in his throat. Sirius was his favorite adult, and the only one whom he felt had ever truly appreciated him. And it had been so long since he had seen the man. Harry threw himself into Sirius' arms… and went right through him._

 _He whirled around, feeling shocked, even as he remembered. As if he had forgotten._

 _"You're...you're…" Harry was sticking his arms into Sirius, trying to grasp something solid, only wanting to hug the man, but there was nothing there. And now Harry could see the man wasn't completely solid looking, at all. He was many different particles shifting in different directions, making a solid shape._

 _"Yes, I'm dead." Sirius looked very sad, and Harry stared at his frowning mouth as the words came out. "Don't you remember? How I died? How you killed me? don't you remember, you FREAK?"_

 _As he said the last word it suddenly wasn't Sirius speaking anymore. It was Vernon. He was panting, chest heaving, and his cheeks were rosy from anger and he held a belt in his closed fists._

 _Harry threw himself backwards, but slipped and ended up sprawled back on the ground, falling on Cedric's body. Only, when Harry looked down, the body wasn't Cedric's anymore. It was Sirius. His face was so still and cold, he wished he could at least be a ghost again._

 _"You deserve this!" Vernon yelled, shaking the folded belt in the air. "You know you do, you freak! You killed them all!"_

 _Two clouds of glowing particles appeared on either side of Vernon, swirling together to make two images. And then Harry recognized them._

 _"Mom! Dad!" he croaked, the words getting stuck in his throat._

 _They didn't even look at him. They were staring at the ground, shaking their heads sadly, their images still blurry and twisted with particules, not even fully formed._

 _"I'm sorry!" Harry sobbed. "I'm sorry, I didn't want you to die! I didn't want anyone to die! I didn't mean for any of this to happen!"_

 _Vernon advanced on him, but Harry didn't even try to scramble back anymore. He was too overcome with grief. He didn't care what happened to him. He huddled into a ball on the ground and waited for the belt to advance, sobs wracking his frail body._

"Hey, hey, shhhhhhhhh, it's ok…."

Something was rubbing circles on his back, and Harry started. This wasn't how this dream went at all. So what…?

Something wet was on his neck, and he felt that fingers were weaved through his own and something else wiping his tears away.

He blinked but everything was still black.

"What is.. Where am I? His mind was scrambling.

"Nightmare, just a nightmare. Go back to bed now." Kisses were trailing down his neck. He could feel the familiar soft wetness of them. And there was a warm weight on top of him.

Jack.

Harry was still half asleep and crying.

He felt a bit panicked that the man had came in his room, but he wasn't beating him or anything, so he let the man pet his hair as he fell back asleep.

The Dursley family seemed like how Snape expected a disgustingly stereotypical muggle family to be. Vernon was watching tv, a large bag of potato chips opened in his lap. Dudley was next to him, a whale of a boy, and he was arguing that he wanted to watch his program while simultaneously crunching on chips. Petunia was gossiping into a phone that was perched onto her sharp chin as she scuttled around the kitchen. Her voice was high as she screeched into the mouthpiece, "Yes, Margaret, I know, but did you see what she was wearing? It was absolutely appalling!"

"Shut up, woman! I'm trying to hear my program!" growled Vernon from the living room.

No one noticed that the front door had quietly opened and shut again. No one noticed the silent intruder that made his way around the house.

Snape had confiscated Harry's invisibility cloak when Potter had first arrived. When Potter had left Snape had purposefully 'forgotten' to return it for this very reason. He wanted to survey the wretched family without being noticed. He felt slightly indignant that he was resorting to Potter-style-mischief-making, but the cloak did have it's use, and then he would return it to the brat once it had served its purpose.

The cupboard was one of the first things that Snape had noticed when he walked in the door. He recollected, in the past when he had been trying to teach Potter occlumency, that there had been something of the sort. The boy had been locked up in there for time-outs, maybe. Still, he hadn't paid it much attention at the time. He had been much more attentive to torturing the boy and ripping into his mind with as much fierceness as he could to render the boy helpless and humiliate him.

Those were the good old days, when Snape was ignorant in his prejudices and he could act in hatred towards the boy with no guilt on his conscience. That had all changed recently. He didn't feel the same animosity regarding the boy. And he hated that he had been wrong about him. He hated that his feelings were changing.

The closet under the stairs perked his interest now. He cast a notice-me-not charm around him and creaked open the door that led under the steps.

The smell was the first thing to greet his nose, because it was rancent. There was a few rags crumbled in the corner and some broken toys on a shelf. He knew immediately that this was more than a simple time-out punishment location. Something living had been locked in here for long durations of time. Snape felt rage build in him as he looked around. He was tempted to turn on the muggles right then, but he hadn't hardly even seen the rest of the house yet.

Upstairs Snape found Harry's bedroom. There were multiple locks and bolts on the outside, and a cat flap on the bottom. When he opened the door everything looked vaguely normal, if not mostly empty. However, his gaze shot right to the window where there were bars on the windows. Bars! He had seen enough. Blood boiling, he made his way downstairs.

Vernon was staring at the tv, a blank expression on his face. Snape walked between the tv and the man, pleased at the way the man stared straight through him. Fixing his wand on him, he silently whispered, "legitimus!"

Dudley, sitting at his dad's side, noticed nothing. He did not know that at that very moment Snape was tearing through sixteen years of memory with a veracity that he had never before used on a human. He flung memories aside, searching for one person: Harry.

He found what he had expected. It did, however, shock him nevertheless. As a death eater and a spy he had partaken in many iniquities that still haunted him in his sleep. He had watched people be tortured and killed. Sometimes he had taken part. He always pretended to enjoy it.

The treatment that Potter had endured, however, made his stomach churn. If there was one thing he could not stand it was child abuse. Seeing memory after memory of Harry crying, begging, flinching, those terrified green eyes boring into his soul, feeling Vernon's pleasure and joy… He wanted to vomit. He wondered if his own father had felt the same when he was a child under his hands. It was sickening.

He pulled out of Vernon's mind, not paying any head to the way the memories around him ripped and shred as he did so, unphased as Vernon slumped to the side, unconscious, a horror-struck expression frozen in place on his face.

Dudley, seeing his father suddenly collapse, screamed.

"Dudley, don't worry, dinner will be done soon!" came Petunia's voice from the kitchen.

Dudley was a bully. He had seen that from Vernon's memories. But he would not torture the boy. He was still a child. There was hope for him yet, hope that he would change. Children were versatile. They deserved second chances.

He left Dudley screaming on the couch and walked into Petunia. Before Petunia could react he had legitimized her as well. He tore through her mind with the same veracity that he had used on Vernon.

If Petunia was any less treacherous in her treatment of Harry it was only because she was afraid of getting her hands dirty. She let Vernon take care of that while she sat back and pampered Dudley and pretended like nothing was wrong, like Harry didn't exist. She obviously preferred it that way. And since Harry did exist, she punished him for it.

"Don't drip blood on the carpet!" "Ew, did you really pee in the closet again? Can't you hold it in?" "Here, have a bread crust and get out of the kitchen." Her words were almost as sickening as her care-free way of speaking them.

Snape left the house with Dudley's screams ringing in his ears like beautiful music. The boy would be sent to a relative, or into foster care, or something. He didn't care. But Vernon and Petunia? He left them slumped on the ground, their eyes rolled back in their heads. They were brain dead.


	17. Chapter 17

Harry woke up the next morning filled with shame as memories of the night before flooded him. He had woken Jack up with a nightmare, and the man had came to comfort him! How embarrassing could he be?

His alarm clock read 11 o'clock. He was pleased that Jack was at work and he had the house to himself.

He poured himself a bowl of lucky charms and flipped on the tv, settling himself into the center of the squishy couch. It felt really good, like he was his own boss. He could eat or watch whatever he wanted and no one was there to say otherwise!

He was a bit on edge, half of him expecting Jack to throw open the front door and storm in at any moment, angrily demanding that he leave for good and that he didn't want him anymore. He would say, 'how dare you eat my food and sit on my coach like you own the place?' or something like that and forget that he had given him permission.

Jack didn't seem to be that kind of person, though, and Harry pushed his fears out of his mind as he sank into the couch, the sickly sweet cereal settling satisfactorily in his stomach. His heart swelled with gratitude. How could anyone be so nice? He was so wrong about the man.

That day was quiet. He played video games, watched tv, went for a walk around town, and wrote letters to his friends. Before long it was five o'clock and Jack was back, two large pizza boxes perched in one hand.

"Harry, how was your day?" he greeted. "Not too boring I hope?"

Harry's heart sped up a bit. He was glad the man was in a good mood and Harry hadn't misjudged his character. "It was great!" he assured. "I got to laze around which was surprisingly...nice." He wondered if most kids did this during their summers. Dudley definitely did. It was bliss; sleeping in, eating sugary cereal, playing video games… This was the life he wanted.

It was then that he noticed that there was a man behind Jack. He was very tall and thin, with blue eyes and a mop of dark brown hair.

"Oh, Harry, this is my friend Frank!" Jack gushed. "Sorry I didn't warn you before inviting him over. I should have texted you or something. It was a spontaneous thing."

Frank stooped forward, hands in pocket, and blinked at Harry from his level. "So you're Jack's new pet!" he gloated. "You sure are cute, even if you are a bit young."

"Oh, lay off!" Jack hissed, giving Frank a light shove.

Frank grinned, and patted Harry on the shoulder. "I'm only kidding! Come on, let's eat!" he plopped onto the living room couch.

Harry face heated up. The guy had a disarming smile, much like Jack. He was younger than Jack and very handsome. He sat next to Frank but on the opposite end of the couch.

Jack filled three glasses with ice and poured cans of coke into them, cursing when one fizzed over the top. He passed them around, sat himself down in the middle of them, and cracked open the first pizza box. Before digging in, however, he pulled out a bong and a tin can from the coffee-table drawer. "You smoke, Harry?" he asked, packing some weed into the bowl.

"Oh! Uh," Harry stammered, quickly swallowing a bite of hot cheese, "I haven't..ever...before."

Frank whistled as if he was amused. "Never? Well, I guess that's normal at your age. How old are you?"

"Sixteen."

"Geez, was I ever that young?"

"You don't have to if you don't want to. Weed always makes the pizza taste even better, though." Jack lit up, inhaled, then passed the bong to Harry.

Harry took it hesitantly, curiosity winning over. He copied what he had seen Jack do, and inhaled. It was stronger than he expected. He drew in too deep of a breathe, ending in a coughing fit.

Jack chuckled, taking it back for another hit. "Go easier next time, aye?" He passed it to Frank, who did the same.

They took hits and ate pizza, and Harry felt himself growing more relaxed and happy as time went on. It was obvious that Jack and Frank were a thing. Frank was reclining with his head in Jack's lap, and Jack was trying to make smoke rings and failing.

Even though Jack and Frank were older, Harry didn't feel so out of place as he had at first expected. They made him feel right at home, as if he was an adult too. Or maybe they just acted like teenagers?

"Oh right," Frank sat up, and ruffled in his pocket, pulling out a bag with a few blue capsules. "Want a go at molly tonight, Jack? You don't work tomorrow, right?"

"'Course!" Jack looked at Harry. "You want to try something else, Harry?" he asked.

"I.. I don't… what is it?" Harry felt embarrassed to have to ask, but he didn't know much about muggle drugs. In fact, he didn't know anything at all.

"It makes you feel good," said Frank. "Everything feels good with this. It takes an hour to set in, though."

He and Jack both popped one, and Harry hesitantly followed their example, thinking wryly about how Snape would wring his neck if he knew what he was doing. The man would never be this fun, not in a thousand years. His idea of a good time was insulting students, giving bad marks on homework assignments, and taking points from Gryffindor. Harry refused to remember the sparse few times Snape had actually been decent during the whole guardianship thing. The man had gotten rid of him in the end, after all. It was easier to hate Snape and remember the bad things than pine over what could have been.

The thought of doing drugs out of spite for Snape made the pill slide down so much easier. _Fuck you, Snape_ , Harry silently gloated.

It wasn't long before Harry began to feel the effect. He began to feel lighter, like he was floating, and overwhelmingly calm and at peace with the world. Voldemort could step into the room and he would offer the man a cup of tea and try to have a chat with him.

Jack and Frank were feeling the effects too, because they had begun to make out heavily. Frank was straddling Jack with a hand in Jack's hair, their tongues dancing back and forth. Jack's shirt was off, and Harry eyed the man's deliciously ripped and tanned upper body, feeling his pants grow tight. Their make-out wasn't bothering him, and they didn't seem bothered by his presence either. Harry's tongue tingled as if it was _him_ doing the kissing.

Frank suddenly let go of Jack and leaned close to Harry. He ran his hand through Harry's hair, and Harry leaned into the touch, astounded at how good it felt.

"Nice, isn't it?" chuckled Frank knowingly. "Molly makes sensations feel really good. You may get dehydrated. Make sure you drink plenty of water, alright? Your mouth is dry, isn't it?"

"I.. I can't tell…" Harry murmured. He was entranced by the man's eyes right next to his. They were beautiful, though the pupils were extremely large, almost swallowing the iris completely. He had long eyelashes, kind of like a girl. Every one stood out in stark sharpness.

"Hmm, let me see." And then the man leaned in to kiss him, and Harry was returning it.

Usually Harry was into everything being fast and rough. It was the way he liked it. However, Frank kissed him very slowly, and Harry felt like he didn't mind at all. Everything felt so soft and sparkly. It would be a sin to rush it.

Someone was kneading his shoulders. Harry realized that Jack had sat behind him massaging his shoulders, his breath warming Harry's neck. The man gently pulled Harry onto his lap while Harry and Frank continued to make out.

Then Frank began making out with Jack over Harry's shoulder, their two bodies entwined with Harry in the middle.

Harry was noticing that his heart was beating very fast, but also that he could feel Jack's and Frank's hearts beat as well. All of their hearts seemed to be beating in synchrony, and Harry thought that it was very beautiful. He felt connected to both of them in a way he hadn't felt connected to anyone before. He knew it was the drugs, but it felt heavenly.

Frank was losing clothes, and gently yanking Harry's off, too. Time was traveling very slowly to Harry. Every moment felt sharp in detail and newer than the last. No one had ever looked so attractive as Frank and Jack. He loved them so much. He loved the whole world so much. He was overflowing with love.

Jack was holding him in his lap, his hands gripping Harry's hip bones, and Harry could feel Jack's cock underneath him. It was rubbing up against where his jeans were covering his hole. He gasped, but it was because Frank had reached around and into the front of his jeans and was stroking him. The sensation made him see stars.

"Want...pants...off," gasped Harry in between strokes, impatiently waving at his legs as if that motion alone was enough to rid himself of the cumbersome material. He felt very weak and sluggish, and he wasn't about to protest at Frank helping him slide off his jeans.

Jack had stood up, pushing Harry gently off his lap, and stepped in front of him. Harry was going to complain at the loss of warmth on his back and in his pants when he caught sight of the Jack's cock inches from his face, already swollen and dripping.

"My turn," Jack said in a husky voice.

Harry didn't protest but opened his mouth in welcome.

He startled a bit because then _his_ cock was swallowed by a warm tight wetness, and he realized that Frank had begun to suck _him_. His voice of surprise was silenced when Jack filled his mouth. Harry's vocal cords vibrated pleasantly around Jack's shaft.

Jack began to pump slowly, then with growing quickness. His head slammed the back of Harry's throat, and Harry forced his throat to remain lax all the way down. Harry knew there were tears leaking out of his eyes but he managed to keep a tight suction, even though he felt half unconscious at the overwhelming pleasant sensation of his own cock getting sucked at the same time.

Harry swallowed when Jack came into his mouth, only partially surprised. It wasn't long before he came as well.

 **Harry fell asleep soon after he orgasmed, feeling full and contented. Jack continued to play with Frank well into the night only a few feet from Harry. He had pleasant dreams that night.**


	18. Chapter 18

Harry was shaken awake the next morning. He cracked his eyes open to see Jack peering down at him. "Harry!" he called gently. "Sorry to wake you, but it's 1 PM. Snape is here. He said he was coming to fetch you for an… appointment? Said you knew of this before you left."

Harry sat up so fast that he got a head rush. He was on the couch where he had fallen asleep the night before… after… oh god. So much had happened. So much that Snape must never find out about. And his head! It felt woozy… like a high hangover? Geez, he hoped Snape couldn't detect anything. There was no way he could, right?

"Goodmorning, Potter. Or should I say, _afternoon_?" The man was standing over him, a tall dark tower. "Did you forget about our _tea_ date at my manor?"

Tea date. Right. The man had healed Harry, but had insisted on giving Harry another check-up to remedy any lingering injuries. Tea date. Good one, Snape. Witty. Real witty. He was just glad the man didn't say _to heal your lacerated back from injuries bestowed upon it out of the goodness of your uncle's heart._ That would be embarrassing.

"I forgot!" Harry muttered lamely.

"I can see that." Snape seemed royally pissed off, which wasn't abnormal for him. Still, why did he have to wake up Harry with his dark cloud of a temper? "I can also see you have made yourself quite comfortable with your new guardian, sleeping well into the day and wherever you please. Is the bed provided not good enough for you?"

"Nothing of the sort," Jack was quick to speak up. "It's just… we were up late last night watching tv, so he fell asleep out here, and I didn't have the heart to wake him. It is Saturday, after all, so sleeping in shouldn't be a problem, right? The couch is quite comfortable."

"You don't have to make excuses to Snape," growled Harry at Jack. "I can't do anything right no matter what I do. I'm a spoiled brat to him, no matter what." He peered under his covers, relieved to see that he was properly dressed. Had he gone to bed that way or had Jack helped him into his clothes? Either way he was in his day clothes from the day before. They were thoroughly wrinkled, and smelled kind of dank, but at least they were on him. "And Snape, you can leave. I would stand you up on _tea date_ any time."

"As your professor, I demand respect," hissed Snape. "Address me appropriately."

"Or what, gonna dock house points? Give me a break, Snape!" Harry snapped. "You got rid of me, remember? I'm not your responsibility anymore, so stop coddling me and fuck off."

Jack looked quite uncomfortable. Snape looked even more furious. He reached down, grabbed Harry by the forearm, and yanked him off the couch and onto his feet as if he weighed nothing at all.

"Let go of me!" cried Harry, yanking his arm back. "I don't have to go anywhere with you! You're not my guardian. I don't have to listen to you. What are you going to do, kidnap me for _tea_? Stop pretending you don't hate me!"

"You are, as I expected, completely out of control. Will nothing done to you teach you to behave? No where you live teaches you decent respect and thankfulness, it seems. You always end up defying all rules and acting ungrateful."

"I am thankful, but not to you!" Harry cried. "You think you have to control me and protect me and whatever, but you _don't_. Whatever Dumbledore put you up to, it's over now. You don't have to deal with me until the school year, so bugger off."

Snape's nostrils were flaring like a horse. "You are as insolent as ever, even with so many people catering to you and trying to protect you. Maybe I will have to find somewhere else for you to spend your summer. Maybe somewhere like...a closet? Situated under the stairs, perhaps? Or locked in a room, with a cat flap to give you food? Which one would you prefer? Oh, but go ahead. Pretend you don't need any help or protection!"

Snape's words found their mark. Harry's face went white. His mouth dropped open. "You...you know?" his voice was quiet, hardly above a whisper. "How do you...how did you...find out?"

As if it wasn't enough that the man knew he was physically abused, now he had gone and found out all the ways Harry had been neglected and humiliated? And he had to say this in front of Jack? Harry felt violated, somehow, like he didn't have any secrets anymore. Even in his failed occlumency lessons the man hadn't seen this much. He wasn't supposed to. No one was supposed to know.

Snape's words hurt, but they had the desired effect of subduing Harry. The boy looked like a kicked puppy, small and submissive, without spirit. Snape felt a tad bit of remorse, but decided to take advantage of the situation anyway. He gently took the boy's arm and began steering him towards the fireplace.

"I will return Mister Potter to you in a few hour's time," he assured Jack before flooing out with Harry.

They came out in Harry's old room in Snape's manor.

Snape steered Harry to the bed.

"Take off your clothes and lay on your stomach," he commanded, voice cold and commanding. He began to accio potions' ingredients.

Harry stared down at the bed, his arms wrapped around his torso, and began to tremble. "I won't do it," he choked. "I don't need this."

"You will do as I say," demanded Snape. "Or I will relocate you to a new guardian, someone much more _strict_ than Jack." He really had no power of the sort, but Harry didn't need to know that. Best to keep the upper hand. It was for his own good anyway. He only needed to heal the stupid boy.

Harry was rubbing his forearms fiercely, as if trying to rub warmth into them. "N-no, Snape, I can't," he choked. "I'm not unconscious this time. It's different. I don't want you to see."

"Would you want me to make you unconscious?" asked Snape sternly, like a threat.

Harry shook his head violently, gasping a bit. "How did you find out, anyway?" he croaked.

Snape raised an eyebrow. Harry went on.

"About-about the- the cat flap. The closet." His trembling increased, and Snape realized the boy was on the edge of a panic attack. "Does it make you happy to know everything about me? About how I lived? And to say it in front of Jack too? What if he gets rid of me now as well, thinks I'm all _freakish_ and stuff, just like you did?" Harry was gasping.

Instead of answering, Snape pressed a calming draught to Harry's lips. Harry drank the bubbling liquid without protest. The tension left his muscles as he did so, and he sank down on the floor, his head lagging a bit to one side.

"I won't speak to you when you are in such an unreasonable frame of mind," said Snape quietly. He grabbed Harry's shirt and gently tugged it off.

He expected Harry to protest, but the boy was acting very subdued once again. Scarily so, in fact. He whimpered a bit when Snape gently pulled down his pants and placed him stomach-down on the mattress. He squeezed his eyes firmly together and lay perfectly still, but for a light trembling that did not abate no matter how warm Snape spelled the room.

It made Snape uncomfortable. He wondered if the boy took beatings from his uncle this way, with this kind of resolved helplessness. It made him feel a bit guilty. He crushed the guilt by going to work on the boy's injuries, telling himself that this was the only way.

Luckily Harry had mostly healed from his last treatment. Some of his soft tissue injuries and open sores needed a few balms, but Snape was pleased to notice that he was healing quickly. On the outside, at least. Snape didn't want to admit that the boy seemed more broken than ever mentally.

When he was done he wrapped Harry in a blanket and called for some hot chocolate. Harry still looked pale and was avoiding all eye contact. Snape was tempted to push into the boy's mind, but avoided it. He already knew what the boy was feeling. Ashamed and humiliated. You didn't need to be a mind-reader to know that. It was radiating off of the child.

"Harry, you are in good health and healing quickly," Snape said.

"I know. I could have told you that," Harry rasped. His voice held a bit of resentment to it, Snape was grateful to note. The boy hadn't had his spirit broken completely, at least. "I didn't need any more of your potions."

"Where did you get the bruise on your neck?"

Harry's hand flew to a sensitive spot above his collarbone, his eyes growing wide, a rush of horror flooding through him. It must have been from the night before, from Frank. Or maybe Jack? He hadn't looked in a mirror that day, so he had no idea he even had a bruise.

"I know you snuck off to see Draco again," pressed Snape. "Jack's apartment has been heavily warded to not allow any guests in, so I know you ran off. There is no use lying about it."

Harry's eyes flashed briefly to Snape's, than dropped again. Snape took this as an admission of guilt.

"I won't do it again."

"See that you don't," Snape admonished stiffly. "Jack has taken you in, and you don't want to repay his kindness by running amiss when everyone is trying so hard to protect you."

 **Harry wasn't listening. Inside, his head was racing. Jack's apartment had been warded against any visitors? Than how had Frank gotten in? It would take a lot of magic to break the wards to allow visitors to enter, but Jack was a muggle so he couldn't do it. Maybe Snape was mistaken? He couldn't ask Snape, because then Snape might find out about last night. And if he found out about last night he'd definitely take him away from Jack. He didn't want that at all.**


End file.
